A  MORAL  BLOT 


A  NOVEL 


BY 

SIGMUND  B.  ALEXANDER 

AUTHOR   OF    "WHO     LIES?"    "THE    VEILED    BEYOND,"     "  JUDITH, 
"  TEN     OF   US,"   ETC. 


What  mockery  is  at  the  root  of  laws  that  rust 
In  creeds  of  pre-election  so  unjust 
If  sin  be  sin,  what  preference  bids  it  scan 
With  lowering  looks  of  punishment  and  ban 
The  woman  it  enslaves  and  soils,  yet  pause  to  absolve  the  man. 

EDGAR  FAWCBTT. 


BOSTON 

ARENA  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 

COPLEY  SQUARE 

1894 


Copyright,  1894, 

by 

SIGMUND  B.  ALEXANDER. 
All  rights  rtstrvtd. 


A  rena  Press. 


AFFECTIONATELY  DEDICATED 

TO 

FLORRIE,  GRACE,  ALFRED,  LOUIS 
AND  STANLEY. 


2072254 


CONTENTS 


PART  I. 

THE  THORN  UPON  THE  ROSE. 

CHAP.  PACK 

I.  The  Scribe 1 

II.  The  Rose 23 

III.  The  Tiger  Lily 46 

IV.  The  Parting 66 

V.  The  Bloom  and  the  Sere 89 

VI.  A  Bitter  Home-coming 104 

VIL  Wanderings 119 


PART  II. 

THE   SPOT   UPON   THE   TIGER  LILY. 

I.  Bohemia 135 

II.  King  Robert  of  Sicily 157 

III.  Two  Women 180 

IV.  A  Midnight  Supper 201 

V.  Exit .......       .  222 


PART   I. 

THE  THORN  UPON  THE  ROSE. 

Ver.    ' '  I  pluck  this  pale  and  maiden  blossom  here 

Giving  my  verdict  on  the  white  rose  side." 

Som.  "  Prick  not  your  finger  as  you  pluck  it  off." 

SHAKSPEEE  (Ilenry  VI). 


A  MORAL   BLOT. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  SCRIBE. 

"  As  we  are  poetical  in  our  natures,  so  we  delight  in  fable." 

HAZLITT. 

"Fables  take  off  from  the  severity  of  instruction  and  en- 
force it  at  the  same  time  that  they  conceal  it." 

ADDISON. 

..."  Much  talk  about  him  that  I  should 
like  to  know  your  Scribe. " 

Two  gentlemen  were  walking  along  Tre- 
mont  Street  amid  a  throng  of  theatre-goers, 
leaving  the  Boston  Museum  after  an  evening 
performance,  and  the  elder  was  speaking. 
"Come,"  he  continued,  "let's  go  to  Billy 

Park's  for  a  little  lunch." 

v 


A  MORAL  BLOT. 


1 '  Do  you  really  mean,  then,  to  say  that 
the  identity  of  'The  Scribe'  is  a  mystery 
to  you  ? "  queried  the  younger,  as  they 
turned  down  a  side  street.  ' '  It's  an  open 
secret." 

"  Do  you  know  it?" 

"Of  course,  and  so  does  every  one  in 
Bohemia." 

' '  But  I  am  not  one  of  the  favored  mortals 
from  that  abode  of  the  blessed." 

"He  makes  no  secret  of  his  identity,  al- 
though he  writes  under  a  nom  de  plume,  and 
if  you  care  to  meet  him  I  will  gladly  intro- 
duce you.  He's  my  particular  friend  and  a 
good  fellow,  worth  knowing." 

1  i  I  imagined  as  much,  from  his  writings, " 
said  Durrell,  "and  your  statement  as  to  his 
friendliness  with  you  only  serves  to  confirm 
the  idea.  By-the-way,  have  you  seen  this 
week's  paper?" 

"  No,  but  I  suppose  he  has  a  parable  in  it, 
as  usual,"  replied  Less.  "We  can  see  it  in 


A  MORAL  BLOT. 


here,"  he  continued,  as  they  entered  the  res- 
taurant. 

"  And  waiter,"  said  Durrell  when  they  had 
laid  aside  their  coats  and  ordered  lunch, 
"bring  us  a  copy  of  this  week's  Hermes. 
Yes,  here  it  is, "  he  cried,  glancing  through 
the  paper  which  the  waiter  handed  him. 
"A  short  one." 

"  Read  it,"  said  Less. 

"  All  right,"  and  in  a  subdued  tone  Durrell 
read  the  following  to  his  companion  : 

"And  in  the  course  of  their  travels  Hassan 
and  Ahmed  climbed  a  great  mountain.  As  they 
neared  the  summit  they  espied  an  inn,  and  being 
aweary,  said,  '  Lo,  here  will  we  tarry  for  a  time.' 
And  Ahmed  sat  himself  down  upon  a  bench  be- 
fore the  door  to  gaze  about  at  his  leisure,  the 
while  Hassan  entered  the  house  and  ordered  their 
meal.  And  being  a-hungered,  Hassan  did  eat  at 
once  of  the  fare  set  before  him,  pausing  only  to 
call  to  his  companion,  '  Come  Ahmed,  to  the 
board  and  partake  of  the  fare  our  host  hath  pro- 
vided. By  Allah,  it  is  good ! ' 


A  MOUAL  BLOT. 


"  And  this  was  blasphemy. 

"And  Ahmed  sat  without  gazing  down  into 
the  valley  where  Nature,  wondrously  beautiful, 
lay  unveiled  before  him.  Green  plains  and  woods, 
dotted  witli  white  houses  and  villages,  and  in  the 
distance  the  great  city  with  its  spires  and  mina- 
rets from  which  the  soft  breath  of  the  breeze 
bore  to  his  ears  the  faint  music  of  bells.  And 
the  rivers  and  brooks  winding  like  blue  and  silver 
ribbons  over  the  verdant  carpet  that  covered  the 
nakedness  of  the  earth.  And  the  rugged,  tower- 
ing, snow-capped  mountains  reflecting  the  light 
of  the  sunbeams,  and  above  all  the  wondrous  blue 
of  the  heavens,  over  which  now  a  fleecy  cloud, 
now  a  soaring  bird,  floated  gracefully.  And  the 
beauty  of  it  all  entered  the  soul  of  Ahmed  and 
filled  him  with  joy  and  wonder,  so  that  he  heard 
not  Hassan  and  forgot  his  hunger  and  weariness 
in  the  sight ;  and  while  thus  rapt  in  contempla- 
tion of  Nature's  loveliness  he  murmured,  'Allah, 
how  beautiful ! ' 

"  And  this  was  prayer." 

"Good  !  "  exclaimed  Ingraham,  as  Durrell 
finished  reading. 

"Yes,  sir,  it  is  clever,"  said  Durrell  em- 


A  M011AL  BLOT. 


phatically,  "I  must  know  that  chap.  Who 
is  he,  anyway  ?  " 

"Talk  of  the — angels,"  said  Less,  as  he 
glanced  towards  the  door.  "  Let  him  speak 
for  himself." 

A  good-looking  young  man  of  medium 
height  entered  as  he  spoke,  and  with  a  smile  of 
recognition  approached  their  table  in  answer 
to  a  beckoning  hand.  ' '  Hullo,  Less, "  he  ex- 
claimed cordially,  "What  are  you  doing 
here." 

"  Same  as  you,  I  presume.  Are  you 
alone  ? " 

"  Yes,  just  came  from  the  Museum." 

' '  Well,  sit  down  here  with  us.  Let  me  pre- 
sent Mr.  Charles  Durrell,  manager  of  the 
Polly  Dramatic  Company,  Mr.  Leo  Ormsby  ; 
'The  Scribe.'" 

"Very  pleased  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Ormsby," 
said  Durrell  heartily,  "  we  were  just  discuss- 
ing your  last  parable  in  Hermes." 

"Yes?" 


6  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

"Didn't  see  you  in  the  theatre,  Leo,"  ob- 
served Less. 

"Were  you  there  ?  How  did  you  like  the 
play  ? " 

"Oh,  so,  so." 

"  What  did  you  think  of  it,  Mr.  Ormsby  ? " 

"Very  little." 

"It  is  quite  a  clever  play." 

"From  a  financial  standpoint,  perhaps. 
There  are  signs  in  it  that  the  author  is  capa- 
ble of  doing  good  work,  but  I  suppose  if  he 
did  his  best  managers  would  reject  the  work, 
as  publishers  have  rejected  manuscripts  of 
mine,  saying,  That  is  too  good  to  make  any 
money  out  of." 

"There's  a  great  deal  of  truth  in  that," 
assented  Durrell. 

"  This  age  is  a  poor  one  for  authors  and 
artists,  it  is  too  matter-of-fact,"  said  Leo. 
"  To  reach  the  highest  place  their  art  offers — 
and  surely  without  the  ambition  to  do  so 
they  can  never  hope  to  do  anything  worth 


A  MORAL  BLOT. 


doing — they  must  spend  their  lives  a-dream- 
ing,  in  giving  the  imagination  full  play  and 
vitalizing  the  conceptions  which  dreaming 
gives  birth  to.  When  they  have  to  join  in 
the  common  scramble  for  bread  and  butter, 
like  ordinary  mortals  ;  to  give  up  their  ca- 
prices through  sheer  necessity  ;  they  become 
tainted,  as  it  were,  and  the  standard  of 
their  productions  is  lowered  until  they  are 
no  longer  works  of  art.  The  '  pot-boiler ' 
quenches  the  fires  of  genius  and  poisons 
ambition." 

"  Surely  you  can  write  as  you  please  ? " 
"  Oh,  yes,  I  was  not  speaking  of  any  per- 
sonal experience,  but  from  general  observa- 
tion. I  have  been  particularly  fortunate. 
The  editor  of  Hermes  expects  a  little  from 
me  every  week,  and  what  I  do  for  him  is  the 
extent  of  my  literary  work,  thus  far.  I  am 
an  artist  by  profession,  you  know  ;  Less  and  I 
have  adjoining  studios  in  Bohemia." 

"  While  you  are  talking  shop,  Leo,"  said 


8  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

Less,  "  tell  me,  have  you  found  a  model  for 
your  Diana,  yet  ?  " 

"No,  not  yet.     Do  you  know  some  one?" 

"No,  but  perhaps  Charlie  can  help  you 
out.  There  are  some  '  hummers '  in  his 
company." 

"  I  will  be  glad  to  introduce  Mr.  Ormsfey  to 
the  hummers,"  said  Durrell,  smilingly. 

"  You  just  notice  '  Tiger  Lily  '  Leo,  that's 
all,"  said  Less,  with  a  significant  wag  of  his 
head. 

"Who  is  Tiger  Lily?" 

"My  leading  lady,"  answered  Durrell, 
"on  the  programme  she  is  called  Miss  Lau- 
rence Varney." 

"You  can  find  material  for  a  parable 
there,"  volunteered  Less. 

"How  so?" 

"  Oh,  work  in  some  of  your  moral  reflec- 
tions on  high  kicking." 

Durrell  laughed. 

"That  subject  is  hardly  in  my  line." 


A  MOJIAL  BLOT. 


"  Oh,  come,  Leo,"  cried  Less,  "  don't  pose 
as  a  purist." 

"  I  have  no  such  intention.  I  don't  pre- 
tend to  be  a  whit  better  than  the  next  man. 
I  am  human,  and  therefore  not  above  temp- 
tation." 

"  As  for  me,"  said  Less,  gayly,  "  speaking 
in  the  vein  of  your  parables,  if  temptation 
seeks  me  not,  then  do  I  hie  me  forth  to  seek 
temptation." 

"Do  you  know  what  you  need,  Less?" 
asked  Leo  seriously. 

"  Lots  of  things  ;  money  principally." 

"  I  might  put  the  question  differently,  and 
I  am  in  earnest,  old  man.  Do  you  know 
what  would  do  you  the  most  good  ?  " 

"Give  it  up ;  a  quart  of  Pommeiy,  per- 
haps. " 

"  To  marry  some  nice  girl,"  said  Leo. 

"  What  !  me  ? "  exclaimed  Less  in  un- 
feigned astonishment. 

"Why  not?  Is  there  anything  very  dread- 


10  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

ful  in  the  idea  ?  It  would  make  an  end  of 
your  knocking  about,  settle  you  down,  in 
fact,  and  that's  what  you  need." 

"Maybe  you're  right,  Leo,"  said  Less, 
"  but  I  haven't  run  across  the  right  girl  yet, 
and  when  I  do  she  will  probably  not  be  an 
heiress,  so  I  shall  not  be  able  to  marry  her." 

"I  did  not  think  you  were  mercenary, 
Less."  ' 

"Nor  am  I,  no  amount  of  money  could 
induce  me  to  marry  a  girl  I  did  not  care  for, 
but  my  tastes  are  so  refined  and  my  pocket 
so  slender  that  if  I  indulge  in  the  luxury  of 
a  wife  she  must  be  one  who  is  able  to  take 
her  part  in  the  realization  of  my  ideas  of  re- 
finement. A  wife  is  expensive,  so  is  refine- 
ment, and  I  can't  support  both  alone." 

"  There's  love  in  a  cottage —  began 
Durrell. 

"  With  bacon  and  greens,  eh  ? "  interrupted 
Less.  "  Excuse  me,  I  prefer  canvas -back 
duck." 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  11 

11  You  ask  too  much,  Less,"  said  Leo. 

"I  know  it,  and  I'm  not  likely  to  get  it. 
If  I  do,  well  and  good  ;  if  not,  I'm  quite  com- 
fortable as  I  am,  thank  you.  As  for  bacon 
and  greens — bah  !  " 

"I'm  sorry  to  hear  you  talk  so,  Less,"  re- 
turned Leo,  "  because  as  long  as  you  enter- 
tain such  ideas  you  will  never  be  a  great 
artist." 

"How  does  that  f ollow  ?"  asked  Durrell, 
curiously. 

"Naturally  enough,  according  to  the 
theories  of  one  of  my  college  professors." 

"What  are  these  theories?  I  cannot 
conceive  what  connection  a  man's  views 
upon  matrimony  can  have  with  his  achieve- 
ments as  an  artist." 

"  I  will  try  to  explain.  An  artist's  aim  is 
to  conceive  and  produce  for  his  fellow-men 
that  which  is  beautiful.  Beauty  is  always 
the  nearest  expression  or  suggestion  attain- 
able of  the  best.  Best  is  a  vague  term, 


A  MORAL  BLOT. 


however,  varying  with  our  conceptions. 
Nature  never  gives  us  a  perfect  object  ;  every 
advance  to  the  best  opens  the  way  to  a 
higher  best.  Outward  forms  seem  beauti- 
ful to  us  because  they  are  indicative  of 
functional,  or  inward  perfection,  as,  for  in- 
stance, health  in  man.  It  is  impossible  to  dis- 
sociate perfect  physical  from  moral  beauty, 
for  in  order  to  attain  that  health  which 
gives  physical  beauty  we  must  exercise 
certain  moral  qualities.  Physical  nature 
can  be  improved  by  moral  nature." 

"That's  all  very  pretty  and  very  true,  but 
what  has  it  to  do  with  the  question  in  hand  ?  " 
asked  Less. 

"A  great  deal,  for  it  leads  up  to  the  fact 
that  the  man  who  leads  an  intemperate  life 
cannot  produce  a  work  of  art,  since  his  hand 
and  eye  must  have  moral  training.  The 
finest  work  is  not  accomplished  by  intel- 
lectual power  alone,  moral  power  is  required 
—  the  power  of  conceiving  ideal  beauty  and 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  13 

idealizing  every  one  of  our  actions,  and,  most 
of  all,  our  own  characters  and  lives." 

"Well?" 

"  Well,  such  sentiments  as  you  express 
must,  so  long  as  you  harbor  them,  affect 
your  character,  and  your  character  must 
have  a  direct  influence  upon  your  work." 

"  Such  fine  assthetic  deductions  are  al- 
together too  much  for  me." 

"^Esthetic  they  are,  I  admit,  and  perhaps 
they  may  appear  extreme  ;  if  so,  think  them 
over,  there  is  more  in  them  than  may  appear 
at  first,  but  I  don't  mean  to  preach  a  sermon, 
let  us  change  the  subject." 

"I'm  agreeable,"  said  Less,  good-natured- 
ly, "the  discussion  of  the  prospects  for  re- 
forming your  obedient  has  little  interest  for 
me.  I  know  him  to  be  a  hopeless  case,  past 
reform. " 

"But  a  royal  good  fellow,  Less,  whom 
I  hope  to  retain  as  a  friend,"  said  Leo, 
smilingly. 


14  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

"  Just  as  long  as  you'll  have  me,  old  man," 
cried  Less  heartily. 

' '  Did  you  ever  try  writing  for  the  stage, 
Mr.  Ormsby  ? "  inquired  Durrell. 

"I  have  two  or  three  manuscripts  lying 
in  my  studio  somewhere  that  have  been 
submitted  to  managers  and  returned  with 
thanks,  unread,  I  suspect." 

"  Did  you  sign  them,   <  The  Scribe '  ? " 

"  No,  I  used  my  own  name." 

"That  was  a  mistake." 

"Perhaps  so." 

"I  may  be  able  to  assist  you  in  finding  a 
market  for  your  plays  ;  I  can  get  them  read 
for  you  at  any  rate. 

"  Thank  you,  I  may  take  advantage  of 
your  kind  offer." 

"  Do  so.     What  are  your  works,  dramas  ? " 

"No,  no,  nothing  so  ambitious.  Prin- 
cipally little  comediettas." 

"Ah,  curtain  raisers." 

"Yes." 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  15 

"Have  you  nothing  more  pretentious  ?" 

11  Yes,  one  piece  ;  I  don't  know  just  what 
to  call  it.  It  is  founded  on  Longfellow's 
'King  Eobert  of  Sicily,'  but  does  not  follow 
the  story  over  closely.  It  is  not  exactly  a 
burlesque,  but  it  comes  near  being  one." 

"A burlesque  !" exclaimed Durrell,  "that's 
right  in  my  line,  and  I  want  a  new  piece,  too. 
You  must  let  me  see  it. " 

"I  will  do  so  with  pleasure,  but  it  is  not 
a  burlesque  in  the  accepted  sense  of  the 
word." 

"  Never  mind  what  it  is,  if  it  suits  my 
people,  and  I  decide  to  do  it,  they  will  make 
a  burlesque  of  it  soon  enough." 

"Well,  I  will  send  you  the  manuscript  if 
you  wish  me  to." 

"  Good.     I  am  at  Clark's,"  said  Durrell. 

"And  now  I  must  be  going,"  said  Leo, 
rising  as  he  spoke.  "I  hope  we  shall 'meet 
again,  Mr.  Durrell." 

"  We  shall,  am  I  not  to  see  your  play  ? " 


16  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

"True.     Good-night." 

"Good-night." 

And  Leo  left  the  pair  in  the  now  almost 
deserted  cafe,  smoking  their  fragrant  ha- 
vanas  over  the  remains  of  a  dainty  lunch. 

He  had  absorbed  some  of  the  romance 
from  the  play  he  had  witnessed,  just  enough 
to  color  his  thoughts,  and  the  still,  calm, 
starry  beauty  of  the  November  night 
strengthened  the  sentimental  mood  he  was 
in.  He  walked  slowly  and  meditatively, 
letting  his  thoughts  wander  idly,  but  amid 
the  play  of  fancy  in  his  mind  there  was  ever 
present  the  vision  of  a  fair  face,  full  of  the 
freshness  of  youth,  embowered  in  a  halo  of 
golden  hair,  from  which  the  deep  blue  eyes 
sparkled  and  the  cherry  lip  pouted  and 
smiled  with  charming  witchery. 

"My  Rose,"  thought  the  young  man 
ecstatically,  "my  sweet,  my  fragrant  Rose, 
she  is — what  ?  A  woman  only.  That  is  all 
she  can  be,  all  I  can  desire.  I  must  not  be 


A  MORAL  SLOT.  17 

like  those  who,  when  they  feel  that  they  love, 
picture  the  object  of  their  affections  as  .an 
ideal,  which,  if  she  is  human,  she  is  bound  to 
fall  below.  Every  one  has  viilgar  traits,  and 
every  lover  tries  not  to  see  these  traits  in 
his  mistress,  tries  so  hard  that  he  blinds 
himself  for  a  time,  by  raising  her  into  the 
realms  of  idealism  ;  but  the  higher  he  raises 
her  the  greater  will  be  her  fall,  for  the  fall 
must  inevitably  come  when  his  sight  is  re- 
stored. It  is  after  this  awakening  to  cold 
reality  that  real  love  begins  ;  when  a  couple 
thoroughly  realize  that  they  are  but  man 
and  woman,  poor  clay,  after  all,  without  a 
particle  of  fanciful  romance  in  them,  outside 
of  their  imaginations.  Then  true,  deep,  ay, 
and  real  romantic,  love  begins — a,  love  with  a 
substantial  foundation,  a  love  to  last  forever. 
A  love  like  mine  for  Rose.  Yes,  although 
I  have  not  reached  that  stage  of  familiar- 
ity that  forces  a  man  to  realize  that  his 

idol  is  but  clay,  yet  I  am  a  dreamer,  an  habit- 
2 


IS  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

ual  dreamer,  and  so  am  able  to  realize  the 
shallowness  of  dreams.  My  love  is  no  dream, 
it  is  reality  itself,  and  I  must  tell  Rose  of  it 
very  soon  :  not  that  the  little  puss  does  not 
know  I  am  her  slave  as  well  as  I  do  myself, 
but  it  is  best  that  I  should  tell  her  in  so 
many  words.  This  friendship,  this  constant 
companionship  we  have  lived  in  is  very  nice, 
but  I  feel  it  is  time  to  bring  about  an  actual 
understanding,  even  though  Rose  and  I  are 
sure  of  each  other.  A  tacit  understanding 
is  all  very  well,  but  I  want  something  more 
tangible.  Ah,  what  a  sweet  little  wife  she 
will  make,  bless  her  !  " 

Thus  meditating,  he  crossed  the  Common 
and  entered  the  new  streets  on  the  Back  Bay. 
He  paused  before  a  cosy,  but  unpretentious 
little  dwelling,  and  drew  forth  his  keys.  As 
he  did  so  the  door  opened,  and  a  gentleman 
descended  the  steps,  after  bidding  some  one 
"Good-night." 

"Doctor  Farns worth,"  exclaimed  Leo,  as 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  19 


he  caught  sight  of  the  gentleman's  face  in  the 
gleam  of  a  street-lamp.  "Is  any  one  ill ?" 

"Ah,  Mr.  Ormsby,  is  it  you?"  said  the 
doctor,  cordially.  "  Yes,  Mrs.  Maynard  has 
had  another  of  her  attacks  to-night." 

"It  is  nothing  serious  I  hope  ?  " 

"  Well," replied  the  doctor,  dubiously,  "  she 
is  all  right  for  the  present." 

"  You  do  not  mean— 

"As  you  are  a  member  of  the  household 
I  will  tell  you  ;  but  remember,  Miss  Eose 
does  not  know  how  serious  the  matter  is. 
She  is  not  even  to  be  told  of  my  visit  to- 
night." 

"  I  understand. " 

"No  one  but  Mr.  Choate  has  been  told 
what  I  am  about  to  confide  to  you.  Mrs. 
Maynard's  trouble  is  from  her  heart  ;  her 
attacks  are  increasing  in  violence  and  fre- 
quency ;  I  can  do  nothing  for  her,  and  if  they 
continue,  as  I  fear  they  will,  they  are  liable 
to  carry  her  off  very  suddenly.  Any  shock 


20  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

or  excitement  may  bring  them  on,  still  I  do 
not  wish  you  to  think  there  is  no  hope.  She 
may  live  many  years  yet,  but  it  will  always 
be  with  this  menace  hanging  over  her.  In 
case  of  emergency  it  is  well  that  some  of  the 
household  should  know,  and  Mrs.  Maynard 
insists  that  Miss  Eose  be  kept  in  ignorance. " 

' '  Yes,  that  is  as  well,  Rose  would  only 
worry  herself  ill." 

' '  Let  us  hope,  however,  that  my  fears  are 
groundless,"  continued  the  doctor. 

"  Let  us  hope  so." 

"  And  now,  good-night." 

"  Good-night." 

The  two  men  separated  ;  the  doctor  walk- 
ing smartly  away  while  Leo  entered  the 
house,  careful  to  make  no  sound  that  might 
disturb  the  sick  woman.  He  was  met  in  the 
hall  by  a  hale-looking  elderly  gentleman  to 
whom  he  nodded  and  whispered,  "  How  is 
she,  Mr.  Choate?" 

"Sleeping." 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  21 

"  Poor  Rose,"  thought  Leo. 

"You  are  late,  to-night,"  observed  Choate. 

"Yes,  I  met  Less  and  a  friend  of  his  after 
the  play." 

"I  don't  like  to  seem  an  old  fogy,  Leo," 
said  Choate,  "but  I  want  to  presume  on  our 
old  friendship  so  far  as  to  offer  you  advice. 
Drop  Lester  Ingraham's  company.  He  is  a 
notoriously  fast  young  man,  and  his  society 
cannot  benefit  you.  A  man  is  known  by  the 
company  he  keeps,  and  a  rising  young  fellow 
like  you  should  be  cautious." 

"Pshaw!"  replied  Leo,  "you  speak  so 
because  you  don't  know  Less.  I  have  known 
him  for  years  ;  we  went  to  school  together, 
and  I  think  I  understand  him  thoroughly. 
A  more  honest,  whole-hearted  fellow,  I  defy 
you  to  find.  There  is  nothing  false  in  him, 
and  as  for  his  life,  why  the  very  fact  that  his 
escapades  are  so  generally  known  goes  to 
prove  that  there  is  no  duplicity  about  him  ; 
that  he  does  not  try  to  hide  his  doings  by 


22  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

assuming  a  hypocritical  virtue  before  people 
at  whom  he  is  slyly  laughing  in  his  sleeve, 
as  some  fellows  I  can  point  out  do.  Mind 
you,  I  don't  approve  of  his  life,  but  because  we 
are  friends  is  no  reason  that  I  should  follow 
in  his  footsteps.  Perhaps  I  may  be  the 
means  of  reforming  him.  Who  knows  ? " 

''That  may  all  be,"  said  Choate,  shaking 
his  head  dubiously  ;  "  still 

Leo  ran  upstairs  with  a  hurried  "good- 
night/' as  if  to  escape  a  lecture.  Choate 
gazed  after  him  with  an  odd  look. 

"A  formidable  rival/'  he  muttered. 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  23 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE    ROSE. 

"A  rosebud  set  with  little  wilful  thorns." 

TENNYSON. 

MRS.  MAYNARD  was  the  widow  of  a  colonel 
of  the  United  States  Army,  and  supported 
herself  and  her  daughter  principally  upon  the 
meagre  pension  which  his  grateful  country 
had  awarded  her  after  her  husband  fell, 
fighting  the  Indians.  To  add  to  her  limited 
income  she  took  her  husband's  old  friend, 
Oliver  Choate,  and  Leo  Ormsby,  the  play- 
fellow of  her  daughter's  childhood,  into  her 
household  ;  knowing  them  both  well,  and 
having  plenty  of  room.  The  gentlemen  ap- 
preciated the  home  they  thus  secured,  and 
lived  contentedly  under  her  hospitable  roof. 


i>4  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

Leo  Ormsby  was,  as  has  been  intimated, 
an  artist  with  literary  tastes  and,  unlike  the 
majority  of  his  brethren  of  the  palette  and 
pen,  was  able  to  make  his  talents  yield  him  a 
competence.  His  parents  died  when  he  was 
quite  young  and  left  him  to  the  care  of  a 
maiden  aunt  who,  after  giving  him  a  good 
education,  died  also,  leaving  him,  at  the  age 
of  twenty,  alone  in  the  world  but  in  comfort- 
able circumstances.  It  was  after  the  death 
of  this  good  lady  that  he  became  a  member 
of  the  Maynard  household. 

Oliver  Choate  had  been  the  life-long  friend 
of  Colonel  Maynard  and,  although  a  bachelor 
himself,  found  great  pleasure  in  his  friend's 
married  happiness ;  and  as  the  years  passed,  he 
watched,  with  ever-increasing  sympathy  and 
interest,  the  growth  and  development  of  the 
little  Rose.  On  the  death  of  his  friend  he 
preferred  making  his  home  with  the  widow 
to  keeping  up  his  bachelor  establishment,  and 
many  wondered  at  his  choice ;  for  he  was 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  25 

known  to  be  a  very  wealthy  man,  and  the 
magnificence  of  his  bachelor  quarters  was 
proverbial  among  his  acquaintances,  while  at 
Mrs.  Maynard's  he  found  no  such  luxurious 
appointments  ;  still  it  was  homelike,  and  he 
was  content  since  he  had  the  companionship 
of  his  friend's  widow  and  her  child,  the  little 
Rose,  whose  blossoming  from  childhood  to 
girlhood,  and  girlhood  to  womanhood,  he  had 
watched  with  eager  interest — an  interest  that 
increased  daily,  although,  for  a  time,  he  was 
unconscious  of  it,  and  when,  at  length,  knowl- 
edge dawned  upon  him,  it  was  bitter. 
Sometimes,  sitting  in  the  room  where  Rose 
was,  he  would  pretend  to  read,  but  all  the 
while  his  eyes  would  be  fixed  upon  the  girl, 
with  a  look  of  desire  that  seemed  out  of 
harmony  with  his  gray  hair.  He  had  lived  a 
lonely,  loveless  life,  and  now  in  his  declining 
years,  as  if  in  mockery,  Cupid  had  pierced 
his  leathery  old  heart,  and  the  sting  of  the 
shaft  was  as  sharp  as  if  he  were  a  younger 


26  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

man.  He  felt  the  folly  of  his  position,  but  so 
keen,  so  all  devouring  was  his  passion  that 
he  was  unable  to  tear  himself  from  the  home 
of  Mrs.  Maynard,  and  so  he  lingered  on, 
beneath  the  same  roof  that  sheltered  the  ob- 
ject of  his  affections,  eating  his  heart  out 
with  a  hopeless  and  almost  unholy  love  and 
hoping  without  hope. 

Mrs.  Maynard  was  a  quiet,  motherly 
woman,  with  but  one  thought,  one  idea- 
Rose  ;  blind  to  her  every  fault  and  too  con- 
scious of  her  good  qualities  ;  Eose,  the  de- 
murest little  woman  in  Boston,  full  of  art- 
ful mischief,  ever  ready  for  some  prank,  but 
serious,  too,  when  she  chose  to  be  ;  impul- 
sive, fond  of  reading — especially  the  par- 
ables in  Hermes — able  to  say  a  sharp  thing 
when  her  temper  was  roused,  and  somewhat 
unforgiving,  headstrong,  and  inclined  to 
forming  biased  opinions,  discontented  be- 
cause of  the  many  economies  their  circum- 
stances forced  her  and  her  mother  to  practise, 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  27 

jealous  of  her  more  fortunate  girl-friends, 
but  politic  enough  to  conceal  her  feelings 
and  assume  an  air  of  content,  which  was  but 
a  screen  hiding  the  constantly-increasing 
bitterness  in  her  heart,  and — perhaps  be- 
cause she  was  an  only  child,  petted  and 
spoiled — very  selfish. 

On  the  day  following  her  illness  Mrs. 
Maynard  appeared  as  well  as  ever  ;  perhaps 
she  assumed  an  ease  she  did  not  feel  to 
deceive  Eose,  and  if  so,  she  was  perfectly 
successful. 

During  the  next  few  days  Leo  had  several 
interviews  with  Durrell  in  regard  to  his  play 
"  King  Robert  of  Sicily  "  :  which  had  made 
a  good  impression  upon  the  manager;  and 
after  some  little  discussion  it  was  arranged 
that  Leo  should  re- write  the  play,  in  certain 
parts,  and  if  the  alterations  proved  satisfac- 
tory, Durrell  was  to  produce  it.  In  order 
that  the  work  should  be  made  to  fit  the  re- 
quirements of  his  company,  Durrell  insisted 


28  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

that  Leo  should  come  with  him.  to  New  York, 
where  the  company  was  playing,  to  see  them 
act,  to  meet  them  aF,  and  to  get  their 
ideas. 

"It  is  essential  to  your  success,"  said  Dur- 
rell,  "  and  we  don't  play  in  Boston  this  sea- 
son. To  be  sure,  we  do  a  number  of  one-night 
stands  around  here,  and  the  company  may 
be  in  town  for  a  day  or  so,  but  that  will 
give  you  no  time,  so  you  must  come  to  New 
York." 

So  it  was  settled  that  Leo  should  go,  and 
when  Lester  Ingraham  heard  of  the  arrange- 
ment he  suddenly  discovered  that  he,  too, 
had  urgent  business  in  the  metropolis  and 
declared  his  intention  of  accompanying 
them.  They  laughed  when  he  told  them, 
but  were  glad  of  his  company,  for  Less  was 
an  agreeable  fellow,  with  no  ambition  greater 
than  a  desire  to  amuse  himself  and  his 
friends,  and  an  income  that  permitted  him  to 
realize  his  aim.  He  was  a  very  taking  man, 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  29 

reputed  fast — in  fact,  one  of  the  useless  orna- 
ments of  society;  but  his  friendship  was 
no  hollow  sham,  aq.d  beneath  the  aimless- 
ness  and  lazy  good-na ;.  lire  w  hich  characterized 
him,  lurked  a  quality  which  attracted  Leo 
and  firmly  cemented  their  friendship,  a 
rare  quality — sincerity. 

Leo  worked  hard  at  his  writing  during  the 
few  days  previous  to  his  departure.  He  had 
not  only  to  put  his  play  into  shape,  but  also 
to  leave  with  the  editor  of  Hermes  enough 
matter  to  fill  his  department  of  the  paper 
during  his  absence.  Every  moment  he  could 
spare  was .  spent  with  Rose,  every  thought 
aside  from  his  work  was  of  her,  and  she 
knew  it.  Although  no  words  of  love  or  mar- 
riage had  been  spoken  by  the  young  people, 
each  felt  that  words  would  be  but  the  hollow 
formality  betrothing  them  before  the  world  ; 
that  whether  the  words  were  spoken  or  not 
they  were  none  the  less  tacitly  plighted,  and 
Choate,  living  in  the  same  house  with  them, 


30  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

could  not  but  see  and  understand  the  state 
of  affairs. 

He  felt  a  helpless  despair  and  a  growing 
bitterness  towards  his  youthful  rival  that 
showed  itself  in  innuendoes,  principally  re- 
garding Leo's  friendship  for  Less,  insinuat- 
ing that  they  were  birds  of  a  feather,  and 
causing  a  vague  unrest  in  Mrs.  Maynard's 
motherly  heart.  But  the  young  people  were 
oblivious  of  it  all. 

Several  days  before  Leo  left  for  New  York 
Choate  was  summoned  to  the  great  city  on 
important  business.  It  was  with  the  utmost 
reluctance  that  he  thought  of  leaving  a  clear 
field  for  Leo,  but  there  was  no  alternative. 
His  worriment  began  to  tell  upon  him,  and 
Kose,  noticing  his  altered  appearance, 
asked  : — 

"  Are  you  ill,  Mr.  Choate  ?  " 

"  I  believe  I  am,"  he  replied. 

"  What  is  the  trouble  ?" 
•  "  I — I  can't  tell,"  he  stammered  jokingly, 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  31 

in  deadly  earnest,  "  I  think  I  must  be  in 
love." 

Kose  laughed  heartily.  "  Oh,  Mr.  Choate, 
who  is  she  ?  The  idea  of  your  being  in  love  ! " 

"Is  the  idea  so  preposterous?"  he  asked 
earnestly.  ' '  Do  you  not  believe  I  could  make 
a  woman  happy  ?  Why,  consider  my  wealth, 
— I  could  gratify  every  whim  of  my  wife ; 
think,  would  not  hers  be  an  enviable  posi- 
tion ? "  He  spoke  tremulously,  but  with  an 
intensity  that  was  unusual,  and  which  caused 
her  to  regard  him  curiously. 

"  Could  this  old  man  be  in  love  with  her  ? " 
she  thought.  "  He  had  certainly  been  act- 
ing strangely  of  late,  hinting  at He  was 

wealthy  ;  every  one  knew  that  :  and  if " 

She  was  lost  in  a  brown  study  for  a  mo- 
ment. 

"You  do  not  answer  me,"  said  Choate. 

"  Most  certainly  the  picture  you  paint  is 
a  tempting  one,  Mr.  Choate ;  but  you  are 
joking." 


A  MOEAL  BLOT. 


' (  But  if  I  were  not  joking — if,  for  example, 
you  were  the  one  to  whom  I  proposed  offer- 
ing my  all,  what  would  you  say  then  ? " 

"  I  should  say — well,  I  should  want  time 
to  consider  what  I  should  say,"  she  answered, 
as  she  tripped  smilingly  away. 

Choate  watched  her  departing  form  with 
glittering  eyes,  and  muttered,  as  he  moistened 
his  parched  lips,  "Perhaps,  perhaps  yet — 

In  the  evening,  as  was  their  custom, 
Choate,  Mrs.  Maynard  and  Rose  were  gath- 
ered about  the  lamp  in  the  sitting-room. 
In  an  hour  Choate  was  to  leave,  and  his 
mind  was  filled  with  unquiet  thoughts.  By 
gradual  stages  he  led  the  conversation  to  the 
topic  uppermost  in  his  mind. 

"And,  all  things  considered,  Mrs.  May- 
nard," he  said,  pursuing  the  subject,  "you 
honestly  believe  in  love-marriages  ?  " 

"I  do,  most  decidedly,"  replied  the  lady. 

"  Let  me  put  a  case,  suppose  Kose  had  two 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  33 

suitors,  let  us  say,  for  example,  Leo  and — and 
myself " 

"Oh,  Oliver!" 

"As  an  example  selected  at  random  let  it 
be  as  I  say.  Well,  Leo's  means  are  limited, 
mine  unlimited, — would  you  prefer  giving 
your  child  to  Leo  with  an  uncertainty  for  a 
future,  or  to  me  with  a  well-founded  surety  ? " 

"  Certainly  you  could  offer  her  greater 
comforts,  but — 

"Now,  Miss  Rose,''  interrupted  Choate, 
"  what  would  your  decision  be  in  such  a 
case  ? " 

"Carefully,  Rose  !  "  cried  Leo  gayly  as  he 
entered  the  room.  "  I  have  heard  enough  to 
know  that  you  are  about  to  choose  between 
Mr.  Choate  and  me.  Should  he  win  your 
favor  I  will  no  longer  respect  his  gray  hair, 
let  him  bewar-r-r-r-r-r-e  !  " 

"Now,  now,  Leo,  quit  fooling,"  cried 
Choate  irritably,  "and  let  Rose  answer 
seriously." 


34  A   MORAL  BLOT. 

"•'  All  right,  lire  away,  Kose,  and  don't  be 
hard  on  poor  Mr.  Choate,  you  know  he  leaves 
us  to-night." 

"  As  forme."  said  Rose,  "  I  love  creature- 
comforts,  and  that  would  make  me  lean 
towards  wealth — 

"Ah!  "from  Choate. 

"  But  if  I  repented.*' 

"What  then?" 

"  I  might  lead  Crcesus  an  awful  dance.  As 
it  is,  here  is  a  hand  for  each  ;  one  for  you, 
Mr.  Choate,  and  one  for  Leo,  so  both  should 
be  satisfied." 

"I  have  the  hand  nearest  the  heart!" 
cried  Leo. 

"  But  I  have  the  right  one!"  muttered 
Choate. 

'•'How  strangely  Mr.  Choate  talked,"  said 

Mrs.  Maynard  to  Eose,  when  they  were  alone. 

"  He  spoke  as  if  he  meant  what  he 

"  Nonsense,  child." 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  35 

' '  No,  Mummy,  honest  ;  and  suppose  he 
did  ? " 

"Well,  suppose  he  did ?" 

"  Well,  would  it  be  so  awful  ?  " 

""Why,  Eose!" 

"I  don't  think  it  would.  I  tell  you, 
mother  dear,  the  way  we  have  had  to  pinch 
since  poor  papa  died  has  taught  me  a  lesson 
and — and  all  in  all,  I  do  not  think  it  would 
be  so  very  dreadful." 

"My  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Maynard,  gravely, 
"  the  heart  is  a  tyrant  that  can  make  itself 
cruelly  felt  when  all  else  is  at  rest ;  never  try 
to  deceive  yourself  into  believing  that  you 
can  silence  its  cravings  ;  for  you  cannot  do 
it." 

"  What  a  sentimental  old  Mummy  you 
are,  to  be  sure.  I — I  have  no  heart,  I  be- 
lieve." 

Mrs.  Maynard  laughed. 

On  the  evening    before  Leo's   departure 


36  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

Mrs,  Maynard  felt  it  her  duty  to  call  upon 
her  next-door  neighbor,  perhaps  because 
'the  sympathetic  lady  wished  to  give  Leo 
a  chance  to  say  a  last  sad  farewell ;  there 
was  no  sadness  about  the  interview,  how- 
ever. 

' '  Is  your  parable  written  yet,  Leo  ?  " 
"  No,  I  must  write  it  to-night  before  re- 
tiring." 

"  My  !  that  will  keep  you  up  so  late,  and 
you  know  late  hours  are  so  injurious  to  lit- 
tle boys.  Go  right  up  to  your  room  now 
and  write. " 

"  I  would,  Eose,  only  you  are  alone.  " 
"Don't  mind  me.     I  am  able  to  take  care 
of  myself,  and  I  can  read  the  dictionary  or 
some  such  book  which  will    entertain  me 
quite  as  well  as  you  can." 

"My  dear  girl,"  cried  Leo,  "you  entirely 
misunderstand  me  :  if  it  were  only  a  ques- 
tion of  keeping  you  company  or  entertaining 
you  I  would  go  at  once  ;  but  the  fact  is  I  feel 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  37 

as  if  I  wanted  a  little  company  myself,  and 
as  you  see,  I  kill  two  birds  with  one  stone.  I 
did  think  of  calling  upon  Miss  Eussell,  but 
she  lives  at  some  distance,  and  then  there 
is  the  trouble  of  dressing,  so  I  thought  I 
might  as  well  put  up  with  what  was  at 
hand." 

' '  Well,  I  never  !  I'll  just  leave  you  alone, " 
cried  Eose,  rising  in  mock  anger. 

"Then  I'll  write  my  parable,"  returned 
Leo  coolly. 

"  No,  you  won't,"  exclaimed  Rose  decisively 
as  she  reseated  herself  upon  the  tete-a-tete 
at  his  side,  ' '  I'm  going  to  stay  here  and  talk 
to  you  until  midnight,  so  that  you  will  have 
to  work  away  into  the  morning,  to  finish 
your  writing  and  you  won't  get  a  wink  of 
sleep." 

"  Oh  dear  !  "  said  Leo,  "how  very  dreadful, 
I  thought  you  said  a  moment  ago  that  you 
did  not  approve  of  late  work  for  me." 

"  I've  changed  my  mind  since." 


38  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

"  Indeed  ?  I  thought  I  missed  some  little 
thing  about  you.  What  did  you  change  it 
for  ? " 

Now,  Leo,  1  think  if  you — "  she  paused 
abruptly. 

"Well?" 

''Oh,  never  mind."' 

"But  I  do  mind." 

"  Tin  sure  you  don't  mind  me." 

"  My  dear  child,"  said  Leo  with  a  pedantic 
air,"pray  don't  abuse  our  language  ;  when 
you  wish  to  say  obey  don't  say  mind." 

"Pshaw!" 

"  Don't  know  him." 

"Who?" 

"Shaw." 

' '  Oh,  Leo,  seriously,  I  had  a  letter  from 
Mary  Shaw  to-day  and  she  sent  some  word 
or  other  to  you,"  said  Rose,  diving  her  hand 
into  the  folds  of  her  skirt  in  search  of  that 
mystery,  a  woman's  pocket,  from  which, 
having  at  length  located  it,  she  drew  a  letter. 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  39 

"Here  it  is.  She  says — let  me  see — oh,  yes, 
1  tell  Leo  that  Emily  and  I — ' :  I  guess  I 
won't  read  it  to  you." 

"  Let  me  read  it  then." 

"No,  siree." 

"  But  the  message  is  for  me." 

"  I  decline  the  office  of  messenger." 

"  I'm  dying  of  curiosity,  Rose  ;  do  let  me 
see  it,"  and  he  extended  his  hand  towards 
the  letter. 

With  a  merry  laugh  she  put  her  hands 
behind  her,  and,  looking  saucily  up  at  him 
said,  "  Get  it  if  you  can." 

"  You  won't  give  it  to  me  ? " 

"No,  sir." 

"And  you  defy  me  to  take  it  from 
you  ? " 

"Yes." 

"  I  cannot  employ  force,  as  you  are  of  the 
feminine  gender,  gallantry  forbids.  How 
am  I  to  get  it  ?  " 

"  Use  strategy." 


40  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

"Well,  then,  first  to  bring  your  hands  from 
behind  you." 

' '  If  you  do  that  you  shall  have  the  letter. " 

' '  Very  well,  but  as  I  may  not  use  force 
you  must  agree  not  to  get  angry  at  any  of 
my  manoeuvres." 

"I  do." 

"  Now  for  it.  In  order  to  get  that  letter 
I  shall  have  to  suffer  my  face  to  be  slapped," 
he  murmured  thoughtfully. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? " 

"First  move  of  the  campaign,"  he  ex- 
claimed, and  bending  over,  kissed  her  full  on 
the  lips. 

"Oh  Leo!"  cried  Rose,  drawing  away 
blushingly. 

"  You  are  at  liberty  to  slap  my  face  for  it," 
he  said  calmly. 

"  Yes,  and  bring  my  hands  forward  to  do 
it,  and  then  lose  my  letter.  No,  sir. " 

'"Second  move  of  the  campaign,"  he  said, 
kissing  her  again. 


A  MORAL  SLOT.  41 

"  Leo  Ormsby,  if  you  do  that  again  you'll 
be  sorry  for  it." 

"  Do  you  surrender  ? " 

"No." 

"  Third  move  of  the  campaign." 

As  Leo  bent  over  to  kiss  her  for  the  third 
time  Rose  suddenly  moved  her  head  forward, 
so  that,  instead  of  their  lips  meeting  in  a 
kiss,  their  heads  came  together  with  an 
ignoble  bump. 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  Rose,  and  startled  by 
the  force  of  the  shock  she  lifted  her  hand  to 
her  head. 

"Caught!"  laughed  Leo,  "the  letter  is 
mine." 

"  Yes,  there  it  is,"  and  she  tossed  it  to  him ; 
' '  but  I  think  you're  real  mean. " 

"/didn't  bump  your  head." 

"  No,  but  you — "  Rose  checked  herself  and 
blushed. 

"  I  know  it,"  cried  Leo,  laughingly,  " and 
I  glory  in  the  act." 


42  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

"It  is  hard  to  think  of  you  as  acting  at 
all,"  returned  Rose.  "  You  spend  so  much 
of  your  time  a  dreaming. " 

"  I  admit  your  charge,"  he  replied 
promptly,  ' '  but  when  in  such  charming  com- 
pany as  I  now  am,  my  dreams  are  banished 
by  the  greater  attractions  of  the  loveliness 
before  me. " 

"  Taffy  !  "  ejaculated  Rose,  with  a  blush. 

"  But,"  continued  Leo,  smilingly,  unmind- 
ful of  her  interruption,  "  although  you  drive 
my  dreams  away  when  you  are  present,  yet 
when  you  are  absent  the  thought  of  you  is 
the  most  potent  charm  I  know  of  to  set  me 
castle-building  again.  Strange,  what  a 
paradox  you  are." 

"Perhaps  you  are  the  paradox,"  she  an- 
swered saucily. 

"  Perhaps  I  am,"  he  said  gravely.  "Say, 
Rose,  what  shall  I  bring  you  from  New  York, 
as  a  peace-offering  ? " 

"I  don't  know,"  she  replied  uneasily. 


A  MORAL  BLOT. 


"I  do." 

"  Do  you?" 

"  Yes,  dear,  a  ring,  a  diamond  ring,  the 
symbol  of  our — 

"  Well,  how  have  you  been  getting  along 
in  my  absence  ? "  cried  Mrs.  Maynard,  as  she 
entered  the  room. 

Rose  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"  I'll  tell  you  about  it  later,  dear,"  whis- 
pered Leo,  and  Rose  gently  pressed  his  hand 
as  she  left  his  side  to  help  her  mother  with 
her  wraps.  But  Leo  found  no  opportunity  to 
speak  again,  Rose  took  good  care  of  that. 

The  next  day  he  bade  them  good-bye,  and 
as  he  lingered  for  a  moment  beside  Rose  he 
whispered,  ' '  I  shall  bring  the  ring  with  me, 
darling."  In  the  next  number  of  Hermes 
Rose  read  a  parable  that  she  felt  sure  she 
had  inspired. 

THE    PARABLE. 

There  once  lived  a  wondrously  Beautiful  maiden, 
whose  hand  was  sought  in  marriage  by  a  certain 


44  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

rich  and  a  certain  poor  youth.  And  it  happened 
that  both  suitors  were  fearful  of  declaring  their 
love  to  the  maid. 

Meeting,  one  day,  they  agreed  to  refer  the  mat- 
ter to  the  high  priest.  And  the  high  priest  spake 
unto  them,  saying,  "Thus  shall,  it  be  decided. 
Ye  shall  both  make  offering  to  the  Gods  at  the 
twelfth  hour,  and  he  whose  offering  is  most  pleas- 
ing, to  him  shall  the  maid  be  given,  and  he  shall 
take  her  to  him  for  his  wife."  And  at  these 
words  the  rich  man  laughed  and  rejoiced  exceed- 
ingly and  the  poor  man  was  cast  down. 

And  the  rich  man  hied  him  home  and  at  the 
twelfth  hour  came  unto  the  temple  attended  by  a 
great  train,  and  laid  many  rich  and  costly  gifts 
upon  the  altar.  And  he  looked  about  him  for  the 
poor  man,  to  see  what  his  offering  might  be,  but 
saw  him  not,  whereupon  he  smiled  in  great  con- 
tent and  returned  home,  and  caused  himself  to  be 
arrayed  in  rich  robes  to  await  the  coming  of  his 
bride. 

And  the  poor  man  went  sorrowfully  from  the 
high  priest's  presence,  for  he  knew  he  could  make 
the  Gods  no  fit  offering,  yet  was  he  conscious  of  a 
purity  of  heart.  And  so  he  wandered  amid  fields 
and  groves,  and  the  beauty  of  nature  soothed  his 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  45 

troubled  spirit,  and  when  the  twelfth  hour  was 
come,  he  cried,  "  The  Gods  are  good,  for  they  give 
me  these  beauties  to  live  amidst,  and  if  they 
deny  me  my  heart's  desire  surely  it  is  because 
they  deem  it  for  the  best."  And,  lo !  as  he  spake 
he  saw  the  maiden  approaching,  and  she  smiled 
on  him  and  he  took  her  in  his  arms,  his  heart 
rilled  with  a  great,  holy  joy,  and  she  was  his. 


46  A  MORAL  BLOT. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE    TIGER    LILY. 

lt  When  lovely  woman  stoops  to  folly, 
And  finds  too  late  that  men  betray, 
What  charm  can  soothe  her  melancholy, 
What  art  can  wash  her  guilt  away  ?" 

OLIVEB  GOLDSMITH. 

"  GOOD-MORNING,  Mr.  Ingraham,"  said 
Oliver  Choate  as  he  met  Less  in  the  cor- 
ridor of  the  Imperial  Hotel,  '  *  is  Leo  in  New 
York  yet?" 

"  Not  yet,  but  we  expect  him  to-night." 
was  the  reply.  "Durrell  and  I  came  on  a 
few  days  before  him." 

"I  return  to  Boston  to-morrow,"  said 
Choate,  "  and  I  should  like  to  see  Leo  before 
I  go,  if  possible." 

"  If  possible  ? "  repeated  Less,   "  why,  of 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  47 

course  it's  possible.  I'll  tell  you  :  I  give  a 
little  supper  to  night,  after  the  theatre,  to 
Durrell  and  some  of  his  company,  we  shall 
have  Leo  there,  suppose  you  come  too  ?  " 

"  Well,  really.  I — I —  stammered 

Choate. 

"  It  is  to  be  simply  a  friendly  gathering." 

"  I  don't  like  to  intrude." 

"  No  intrusion,  I  assure  you,"  said  Less, 
"  rather  a  pleasure.  Come  to  Hayes'  studio 
at  eleven, — you  know  the  place  I  think  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed." 

"  All  right ;  I'll  look  for  you.  There's  to 
be  a  jolly  crowd  of  fellows,  some  of  our  best 
friends,  you  know,  a  sort  of  compliment  to 
Leo." 

"  Very  nice  of  you,  I'm  sure,"  said  Choate, 
"I'll  try  to  look  in." 

"  Good  !  "     And  the  gentlemen  parted. 

"  Great  Scott ! "  chuckled  Less,  as  he 
watched  Choate's  departing  figure.  "  What 
a  joke  !  It'll  be  rich  to  watch  that  old  puri- 


48  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

tan  when  he  finds  himself  with  Tiger  Lily 
and  the  rest  of  'em  ;  a  study  for  a  picture, 
by  Jove ! " 

And  Choate  smiled  grimly,  as  he  walked 
away,  muttering  to  himself,  "  It  will  be 
strange  if  I  cannot  find  a  good  foundation 
to  work  upon  to-night." 

When  Leo  arrived  in  New  York  he  was 
met  by  Less  and  Durrell,  who  gave  him  hardly 
time  to  dress  before  they  hurried  him  to  the 
theatre  to  see  the  final  scenes  of  a  burlesque. 
Here  for  the  first  time  he  saw  Miss  Laurence 
Varney,  otherwise  Tiger  Lily. 

She  was  a  magnificent  woman,  young, 
tall,  well-formed,  with  a  light  grace  about 
all  her  movements  that  quite  banished  the 
impression  that  she  was  too  large,  which  a 
first  glance  might  give  rise  to.  Her  hair  was 
black  and  glossy,  her  eyes  of  the  same  color, 
shaded  by  beautifully-arched  brows  and  long 
lashes,  in  sharp  contrast  to  the  clear  olive 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  49 

skin  and  ruddy  lips,  and  even  upon  the  stage 
she  made  use  of  very  few  devices  to  heighten 
her  charms,  in  the  exhibition  of  which  she 
was  by  no  means  chary. 

"  Well,  Leo,  what  do  you  think  of  her?" 
asked  Less. 

"  A  beautiful  woman,"  replied  Leo,  shortly. 

"  How  would  she  do  as  a  model  for  your 
Diana  ? " 

"She  might,  but  that  type  of  .woman  is 
hardly " 

"  Never  mind  the  picture,"  interrupted 
Durrell,  "  How  will  she  do  for  King  Eobert  ? " 

"Very  well,  provided  she  is  capable  of  por- 
traying a  certain  pathetic  quality,  which 
must  mark  the  manner  of  the  fool,  even  in 
his  jests." 

"  And  she  can  do  it,"  said  Durrell,  "  she's  a 
mighty  clever  woman,  sir.  There's  the  last 
chorus.  Come  on."  And  the  three  men  left 
the  theatre. 

Half  an  hour  later  they  entered  Hayes* 


50  A  MORAL  BLOT. 


studio,  where  they  met  Hayes,  Miss  Varney, 
and  three  of  her  sister- actresses,  Guida 
Estes,  Cora  Shirley  and  Alma  Mandell,  a  trio 
of  very  pretty  and  lively  young  women, 
and  a  child,  the  little  daughter  of  Guida 
Estes,  who  had  acted  in  the  play  of  the  even- 
ing, figuring  upon  the  programme  as  Little 
Ada.  Less  and  Durrell  were  greeted  famil- 
iarly by  all,  and  Leo  was  introduced  at  once. 

"  Sorry  if  we  kept  you  waiting,"  said  Less, 
"  but  I  shan't  waste  tune  with  excuses,  and 
if  you're  all  ready  we'll  go  in  at  once, "  and 
offering  his  arm  to  Guida  he  led  the  way  to 
an  adjoining  room,  where  a  tempting  table 
was  spread. 

Leo  offered  his  arm  to  Laurence  Varney, 
the  "  Tiger  Lily."  He  had  been  unaware, 
until  he  entered  the  room,  that  he  was  ex- 
pected to  make  one  of  a  midnight  supper 
party;  had  he  known  it  he  would  have  made 
some  excuse  to  stay  away  ;  not  because  he 
deemed  it  wrong,  or  feared  temptation,  he 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  51 

had  often  before  made  one  at  similar  gather- 
ings, but  now,  he  thought,  there  was  a  pure 
girl  at  home  with  whom  he  hoped  soon  to 
link  his  life,  and  he  felt  that  it  would  distress 
and  shock  her  to  know  he  was  in  such  com- 
pany, that  he  owed  it  to  his  respect  for  her 
to  keep  clear  of  all  contaminating  influences  ; 
still,  finding  himself  placed  as  he  was,  he 
could  not  well  withdraw  without  offending 
his  friends,  and  perhaps  sacrificing  all  chance 
of  gaining  a  hearing  for  his  play,  and  so  he 
decided  to  remain,  mentally  determining 
that  it  should  be  the  last  affair  of  its  kind 
for  him. 

"Come,  Ada,"  said  Tiger  Lily  kindly,  to 
the  child  who  had  been  left  alone,  forgotten 
by  her  mother.  "You  shall  sit  with  this 
gentleman  and  me." 

The  child  came  to  Leo's  side  at  once,  "  I 
like  you, "  she  said  decidedly. 

Tiger  Lily  laughed.  "  You  have  made  a 
conquest  already,"  she  observed,  "  and  no  in- 


52  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

considerable  one,  I  assure  you.  Ada  is  very 
hard  to  win.  I  believe  I  am  the  only  person 
in  the  company  she  obeys  ;  her  own  mother 
can  do  nothing  with  her. 

Leo  glanced  at  Guida,  who  was  laughing 
and  chatting  with  Less,  utterly  oblivious  of 
her  child,  and  then  at  the  little  one,  standing 
demurely  at  his  side.  "I  am  sure  she  is  a 
sweet-tempered  child,"  he  said,  "her  face 
shows  it." 

' '  Yes,  indeed, "  answered  Tiger  Lily  as  they 
seated  themselves  at  the  table,  "  and  there's 
an  old  head  upon  her  little  shoulders.  I  thir>]i 
she  is  misunderstood." 

"  Many  of  us  are." 

"  Sometimes  I  think  all  are, — I  am,  I  know; 
but  it  is  because  I  am  an  actress,  a  burlesque 
actress,  one  who  sells  her  beauty  to  the  public 
gaze  ;  yet  for  all  that  I  am  a  woman,  with  a 
woman's  aims  and  ambitions." 

"Which  you  may  some  day  realize  and 
enjoy,"  said  Leo,  sympathetically,  touched 


A  MORAL  SLOT.  63 

by  the  tinge  of  pain  which  colored  the 
actress's  blun^  words. 

"Never.  I  have  been  guilty  of  the  un- 
pardonable sin  ;  I  have  sold  my  modesty.  I 
have  become  a  shameless  actress,  and  am 
branded  forever,  for  I  am  a  woman.  Were 
I  a  man  I  would  have  committed  no  trans- 
gression, but  civilization  has  not  yet  reached 
the  point  where  man  and  woman  are  equal, 
and,  until  it  does,  woman  must  suffer." 

Leo  was  silent,  he  did  not  know  how  to 
answer  this  strange  outburst.  After  a 
moment  Tiger  Lily  laughed  and  continued, 
"I  suppose  you  are  wondering  why  I  talk 
thus  to  you  ?  I  don't  know  myself  ;  it's  a 
whim,  and  I  make  it  a  point  to  gratify  all 
my  whims.  I  am  a  strange  girl,  they  tell  me. 
When  the  child  expressed  a  liking  for  you 
at  first  sight,  I  felt  confidence  in  you  too,  for 
I  believe  in  the  power  of  intuition  which 
children  are  said  to  possess,  and  so —  "  she 
broke  off  abruptly,  shrugged  her  shoulders, 


54  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

and  began  to  eat.  Evidently  she  wished  to 
make  him  forget  her  words.  . 

"Well,  little  one,"  said  Leo,  turning  to 
Ada,  ' '  what  do  you  want  ? " 

' '  Some  charlotte  russe,  please,  and  a  glass 
of  champagne." 

"  Surely,"  said  Leo,  turning  to  Tiger  Lily, 
"  you  do  not  give  this  child  champagne .?" 

' '  Just  a  taste,  that  is  all.  Here,  Ada,  you 
shall  sip  mine." 

' '  She  ought  to  be  in  bed,  long  ago. " 

"  So  she  had,  but  children  brought  up  on 
the  stage  differ  from  the  ordinary." 

"  I  should  say  they  did  !  Why,  what  can 
be  the  future  of  a  child  who  at  her  age  at- 
tends midnight  champagne  suppers  ? " 

"And,"  continued  Tiger  Lily,  feelingly, 
"  who  nightly  hears  and  sees  the  words  and 
sights  that  are  the  inevitable1  accompaniment 
of  a  burlesque  troupe.  I  have  told  Guida  of 
it  often,  but  my  words  have  no  effect  ;  the 
child  is  clever,  and  earns  a  larger  salary  than 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  55 

her  mother  does,  and  so  she  must  grow  up 
one  of  us.  There  is  advanced  civilization 
in  a  nutshell  for  you  :  everything  from  child- 
hood to  age,  soul,  body,  conscience,  all,  to  be 
had  for  money  ;  and  there  is  no  help  for  it;" 

"  Little  one,"  said  Leo  to  the  child,  "you 
told  me  you  liked  me." 

"Yes,  I  do." 

' '  Then  will  you  do  something  for  me  ? " 

"What  is  it?" 

"  Promise  me  that  you  will  not  drink  any 
more  champagne." 

"Never?" 

"Never." 

The  child  looked  hesitatingly  up  into  his 
face.  "  Will  it  please  you  very  much  ? "  she 
asked  at  length. 

"  Very  much." 

"Then  I  will." 

"  Thank  you,  little  one." 

"  But  I  don't  see  what  difference  it  makes 
to  you."  . 


56  A  MORAL  HLOT. 

"  It  makes  this  difference,  little  one  ;  you 
like  me,  and  I  like  you  very  much,  and 
because  I  like  you  I  don't  want  you  to  drink 
it,  for  it  is  not  good  for  you." 

11 1  suppose  it  don't  hurt  grown  folks,  does 
it  ? "  asked  the  child. 

"  If  they  drink  much,  it  does." 

"Then  you  must  promise  me  not  to  drink 
much. " 

"  I  promise." 

' (  And  now  make  Tiger  Lily  promise. " 

"  She  will  not  drink  much,"  said  Leo,  some- 
what confusedly,  while  the  actress  laughed. 

"But  make  her  promise,"  insisted  Ada. 
"  I  know  she  will,  because  she  likes  you." 

"How  do  you  know  that,  Ada?"  asked 
Tiger  Lily. 

"  Because  you  talk  to  him  like  it." 

A  burst  of  laughter  from  the  other  members 
of  the  party  interrupted  them.  Less,  warm- 
ing under  the  genial  influence  of  the  wine  and 
the  bright  eyes  about  him  was  relating  one 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  57 

of  his  famous  stories.  "  Well,"  he  con- 
tinued, "the  only  thing  left  for  us  to  do  was 
to  drive  there.  It  was  a  bitter  cold  night, 
and  I  wanted  to  wait  until  morning,  but 
nothing  would  suit  Charlie  but  to  drive  over 
at  once.  The  supper  had  been  a  gorgeous 
success  and  we  started  off,  pretty  well  warmed 
up  with  the  wine  we  had  been  drinking. 
We  walked  through  a  number  of  crooked 
streets  and  almost  lost  ourselves,  for  we  were 
both  strangers  in  the  town,  but  at  last  we 
struck  a  stable,  where  we  hired  a  team, 
promising  to  send  it  back  in  the  morning. 
By  that  time  we  were  thoroughly  chilled, 
and  Charlie  insisted  upon  a  warm  drink  be- 

% 

fore  the  drive,  so  we  had  some  punch.  He 
bought  a  bottle  of  whiskey  and  took  it  into 
the  carriage.  Every  once  in  a  while  we  took 
a  drop  in  order  to  keep  ourselves  warm. 
Well,  the  consequence  of  mixing  champagne, 
rum-punch  and  whiskey  is  intoxication,  and 
we  both  succumbed  to  the  consequences  ;  and 


58  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

permit  me  to  say,  by  way  of  parenthesis, 
that  I  prefer  as  a  stimulant  to  intoxication, 
ever  since  then,  an  intangible  something 
which  writers  like  my  friend  Leo  there,  call 
bliss.  Well,  we  both  were  so  full  of  conse- 
quences, that  we  put  up  at  the  very  first 
hotel  we  struck,  forgetting  all  about  Charlie's, 
urgent  business.  The  next  morning  we 
woke  to  find  ourselves  ten  miles  further 
from  our  destination  than  we  were  when  we 
started  to  drive ;  we  had  been  going  the 
wrong  way  all  the  time,  and  the  worst  of  it 
was,  we  had  entirely  forgotten  where  we 
hired  that  team.  We  drove  back  to  the  town 
where  we  thought  we  had  been  the  night  be- 
fore, but  could  find  no  trace  of  the  owner. 
Business  compelled  Charlie  to  follow  the  com- 
pany, and  we  had  to  take  that  blasted  horse 
with  us  wherever  we  went.  For  a  week 
we  paid  his  board,  and  took  him  from  town 
to  town  with  us,  and  finally  we  were  arrested 
by  the  indignant  owner  as  horse-thieves.  It 


A  MORAL  BLOT. 


cost  us  a  pretty  penny  to  get  out  of  that 
scrape  too,  eh,  Charlie  ?  " 

(  'But  we  did  it,"  said  Durrell  laughing; 
"we  generally  land  right  side  up." 

"Come  now,"  cried  Less,  "I've  started 
the  story-telling,  who's  next  ?  " 

No  one  answered. 

"  Here  Leo,"  he  continued,  "You're  a  story- 
teller by  trade,  give  us  one  now  by  way  of  a 
sample  and  we  are  not  particular  to  have  it  a 
parable." 

"My  ability,  such  as  it  is,"  said  Leo,  as 
he  saw  all  eyes  turned  towards  him,  "lies 
in  story-writing,  not  telling,  but  I  will  do 
what  I  can.  I  was  greatly  amused  at  a  very 
classical  chamber  concert  which  I  attended 
in  Boston,  by  an  example  of  the  far-famed 
'  Boston  culture  '  which  the  comic  papers  use 

as  a  standing  joke.     The  music  was  rendered 

t 

by  an  excellent  string  orchestra,  but  the  pro- 
gramme was  so  heavy  that  long  before  the 
last  number  the  audience  was  thoroughly 


60  A  MORAL  SLOT. 

exhausted.  This  last  number  was  to  be  the 
heaviest  piece  of  all,  and  was  supposed,  ac- 
cording to  the  programme  to  represent  in  its 
various  movements,  sickness,  delirium,  ex- 
haustion, rest,  convalescence,  and  health." 
At  the  last  moment  it  was  thought  advisable 
to  substitute  a  well-known  composition  of 
Mozart's  for  this  piece,  in  order  to  lighten 
the  effect  of  the  concert,  and  the  change  was 
made  without  informing  the  audience.  I 
overheard  a  gentleman  explaining  the  music 
as  it  progressed  to  the  ladies  he  was  escort- 
ing. He  explained  from  his  programme,  find- 
ing the  representation  of  sickness,  delirium, 
et  cetera,  in  Mozart's  work  with  so  much 
ingenuity  that  the  great  composer  himself 
might  have  been  persuaded  that  he  had 
represented  the  themes  set  down  upon  the 
programme,  although  anything  of  so  gloomy 
a  nature  was  far  from  his  thoughts  when  he 
composed  the  lively  strains." 

"That's  a  pretty  flat    story,    Leo,"  vol- 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  61 

unteered  Less,  bluntly,  "you  can  do  better, 
come,  try  again,  and  give  us  something 
spicy." 

"Later,  perhaps,"  replied  Leo,  "give 
some  one  else  a  chance." 

"  Why  do  you  feel  under  restraint  with 
us  ? "  asked  Tiger  Lily,  turning  to  Leo. 

' '  Under  restraint  ?  Why  do  you  ask 
that  ?  I  assure  you  I  am  perfectly  at  ease." 

"  Yes,  at  ease  as  you  would  be  in  a  draw- 
ing room  or  at  a  reception.  Etiquette  is 
hardly  necessary  here." 

"How  would  you  have  me  conduct  my- 
self ? " 

"I  hardly  know,"  answered  Tiger  Lily, 
"  there  is  something  in  your  manner  that 
makes  it  appear  as  if  you  felt  yourself  out  of 
place." 

"  Nonsense,  I  have  attended  many  a  Bo- 
hemian supper,  in  fact  I  am  a  thorough 
Bohemian,  ask  Less,  if  you  doubt  me." 

"  Oh,  I  believe  you.     You  are  a  very  odd 


Gl>  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

fellow,  I  think  ;  I've  read  a  lot  of  those 
parables  you  write,  and  they  confirm  my 
belief.  I'm  an  odd  girl,  too,  and  so  I  rather 
like  you  ;  I  think  we  shall  be  friends. " 

"I  hope  so," murmured  Leo.  He  felt  a 
tugging  at  his  coat  sleeve  and  turning,  saw 
that  Ada  wished  to  speak  to  him.  "  What 
is  it,  little  one  ? "  he  asked. 

"I  told  you  Tiger  Lily  liked  you,"  said 
the  child,  triumphantly,  "and  now  she  says 
so  herself  ;  you  see  I  was  right." 

Leo  raised  his  glass  to  his  lips,  at  a  loss 
for  a  reply. 

"Little  pitchers,"  laughed  Tiger  Lily,  "I 
think,"  she  continued,  after  a  moment,  "that 
I  can  find  the  key  to  your  reserve." 

Leo  smiled.     "  Try  it,"  he  said. 

"  Are  you  in  love  ? "  she  asked  bluntly. 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  promptly. 

"I  don't  believe  it,"  said  Tiger  Lily  smil- 
ingly, "  you  confess  too  freely." 

"  If  I  said  no,  you  would  not  believe  me," 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  63 

said  Leo,  good-naturedly, "  and  I  said  yes,  and 
you  do  not  believe  me.  Perhaps  I  answered 
as  I  do  not  wish  you  to  believe." 

She  laughed. 

"How  did  they  come  to  call  you  Tiger 
Lily  ! "  he  asked,  to  change  the  subject,  for 
he  would  have  deemed  it  sacrilege  to  speak 
of  Eose  in  such  company,  and  the  conversa- 
tion was  too  near  her  to  please  him. 

"  I  rather  like  a  nickname,"  replied  Tiger 
.  Lily,  "and  some  one  called  me  Tiger  Lily 
once,  when  I  was  angry,  and  the  name  has 
clung  to  me.  I  shall  keep  it  until  I  can  find 
a  better.  Can  you  suggest  an  improvement  ? 
you  are  an  author,  and  ought  to  be  able 
to." 

"  Since  you  challenge  me  in  that  way  I've 
a  mind  to  make  the  attempt,  although  I 
hardly  know  you  well  enough  to  do  so." 

"  Never  mind,  try  it.  Attention,  every- 
body ! "  she  called,  raising  her  voice  and  rap- 
ping upon  the  table.  "My old  nickname  of 


64  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

Tiger  Lily  is  worn  out,  and  our  author  is 
going  to  supply  a  new  one." 

Every  one  turned  smilingly  to  Leo. 

"  Come,  fire  away,  old  man,"  cried  Less, 
11  we're  all  attention.  Fill  up  everybody  and 
drink  to  the  christening." 

The  laughter  and  noise  following  this 
sally  drowned  the  sound  of  a  closing  door 
as  Oliver  Choate  entered  the  outer  room. 
He  saw,  through  the  door,  which  stood  ajar, 
the  half-intoxicated  men  and  women  within, 
and  Leo  rising  smilingly  to  say,  as  he  held 
aloft  a  brimming  glass  of  champagne,  ' '  Miss 
Laurence  Varney,  henceforth  be  it  known  to 
all  whom  it  may  concern,  that  we,  the  august 
Court  of  Nicknames,  do  solemnly  decree,  that 
on  this,  the  twenty-ninth  day  of  November, 
Anno  Domino,  Eighteen  Hundred  and  Ninety- 
three,  you  shall  cast  aside  for  use  upon  state 
occasions,  the  nickname  of  Tiger  Lily,  and 
shall  use  the  said  name  for  rainy  days  only; 
and  furthermore,  be  it  decreed  that  the  state 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  65 

nickname  which  you  shall  henceforward  be 
known  by  is,  Miss  Larry." 

"  Miss  Larry  forever  !  "  vociferated  the 
company,  as  they  rose  to  their  feet  and 
pledged  the  actress  with  brimming  glasses. 

Tiger  Lily  rose  also  with  a  pretence  of 
emotion  and  said  tremulously,  "  Friends,  this 
enthusiasm  is  too  much,  I  am  quite  overcome, 
believe  me  I — I — ah,  Godpapa,  support  me  ?  " 
and  with  mock  faintness  she  threw  herself 
into  Leo's  arms. 

The  company  burst  into  a  roar  of  laugh- 
ter and  drained  their  glasses.  Oliver  Choate 
turned  from  the  scene,  and  beckoning  a 
servant  who  was  passing  said  to  him,  "  Take 
my  card  to  Mr.  Ingraham,  and  tell  him  I 
regret  that  I  cannot  stop,"  and  he  left  the 
place  hurriedly,  chuckling  to  himself  as  he 
went,  "I've  got  him!"  he  muttered  glee- 
fully, "  I've  got  him  now ! " 


66  A  MORAL  BLOT. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE   PARTING. 

• 

"  Parting  is  such  sweet  sorrow 
That  I  could  say  good-night,  till  it  be  morrow." 

SHAKSPEKE  (Borneo  and  Juliet). 

AFTER  reading  Leo's  play,  Durrell's  stage- 
manager,  a  man  old  and  experienced  in  his 
business,  shook  his  head  dubiously,  saying, 
"It's  an  excellent  work,  too  good  for  us, 
that's  the  trouble.  It  may  go  ;  still,  before 
reading  it  to  the  company,  I  would  advise  a 
few  further  alterations.  When  they  hear 
it  they  will  ask  for  more  changes,  you  may 
be  sure,  but  what  I  advise  will  be  absolutely 
necessary  before  the  piece  can  be  produced." 

And  so  Leo  set  to  work  with  a  will,  rewrit- 
ing as  he  was  directed,  working  with  all  the 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  67 

more  vigor  because  he  knew  his  task  must 
be  finished  before  he  could  return  to  Rose. 
For  nearly  a  week  he  applied  himself  steadily, 
and  during  this  time  did  not  hear  a  word 
from  home.  He  wrote  several  times  to  Eose 
but  received  no  answer,  and  it  was  with  a 
feeling  of  relief  that  he  at  length  completed 
his  task  and  announced  his  readiness  to  read 
the  work  to  Durrell  and  his  company. 

Both  Durrell  and  Less  tried  repeatedly  to 
induce  him  to  join  them  in  supping  with  the 
actresses  or  in  wandering  about  the  city  in 
search  of  adventures,  and  exploring  some  of 
its  most  questionable  quarters,  but  he  was 
firm  in  his  refusals,  much  to  the  chagrin  of 
Less,  who  had  counted  upon  his  company  in 
their  escapades.  Leo  felt  that  an  explanation 
was  due  to  his  friend, and  he  confided  to  him 
the  fact  of  his  love  for  Rose  and  his  hopes  of 
winning  her.  Less  appreciated  the  motives 
which  prompted  the  refusals,  and  said  noth- 
ing further  to  weaken  Leo's  resolve. 


68  A  MORAL  SLOT. 

Leo  often  met  little  Ada  and  the  ladies  of 
Durrell's  company.  The  child  had  taken  a 
great  liking  to  him,  and  insisted  upon  calling 
upon  him  frequently.  Her  mother  refused 
to  take  her,  but  Tiger  Lily  volunteered  to 
humor  her  whim,  and  brought  her  to  his 
hotel  nearly  every  day,  led  not  so  much  by 
the  child's  caprice  as  by  a  strong  inclination 
of  her  own. 

When  he  left  her,  on  the  night  of  the  sup- 
per, Leo  was  inclined  to  think  that  Tiger 
Lily  was  as  common  as  most  of  the  women 
whom  Less  chose  to  associate  with,  but  the 
more  he  saw  of  her,  the  more  he  was  forced 
to  alter  his  opinion.  True,  she  was  lax  in 
her  morals,  but  this,  he  came  to  think,  was 
more  the  result  of  association  than  of  choice  ; 
there  was  a  refinement  about  her  that  the 
others  lacked  ;  a  womanliness  not  yet  de- 
stroyed by  her  fast  life.  She  told  him  her 
story.  Her  mother  died  in  giving  her  birth, 
and  her  father  had  brought  her  up  sur- 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  69 

rounded  with  every  luxury  that  wealth  could 
secure,  until  her  fourteenth  year,  when 
a  great  financial  panic  swallowed  up  his 
entire  fortune,  and  he,  rather  than  face  the 
penury  that  awaited  him,  committed  suicide. 
The  girl  was  compelled  to  leave  the  palatial 
home  to  which  she  had  heen  accustomed  all 
her  life,  and  go  to  live  with  some  distant 
relatives  of  her  father's  in  a  remote  country 
town.  Her  guardians  were  narrow-minded 
people  of  limited  means,  who  felt  that  they 
were  doing  a  great  charity  by  adopting  the 
child,  and  they  let  her  know  it.  She  was  no 
longer  petted  and  waited  upon,  in  fact,  she 
was  looked  upon  as  a  sort  of  upper-servant  ; 
and  while  her  duties  were  not  hard,  still  they 
were  galling  after  her  past  life,  and  she  was 
thoroughly  miserable.  Her  guardians  were 
not  unkind,  but  too  uncultivated  to  under- 
stand her  and  they  constantly  reproached  her 
for  her  weeping  and  ungratefulness  while 
they  extolled  their  own  virtue  in  charitably 


70  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

harboring  her.  For  several  months  she  bore 
her  lot,  if  not  patiently,  at  least  without  com- 
plaint, but  the  fires  of  rebellion  smouldered 
in  her  breast  ready  to  flare  up  at  any  moment. 
Her  greatest  passion  had  always  been 
for  the  stage,  ,and  her  father,  whose 
tastes  had  been  similar,  encouraged  her  ; 
but  her  guardians  were  of  the  strictest 
puritan  type  and  regarded  the  stage  as  a 
snare  of  Satan,  avoiding  shows  and  show 
people  as  a  pestilence,  and  forbidding  her 
to  have  anything  to  do  with  them.  It 
happened  that  several  members  of  a 
third-rate  burlesque  troupe  came  to  the 
village  to  pass  a  few  summer  weeks,  and 
Tiger  Lily  made  their  acquaintance.  The 
manager  of  the  troupe,  a  shrewd  young 
fellow,  heard  her  sing  and  saw  that  she 
had  ability  of  no  mean  order.  As  days 
passed,  they  became  very  friendly,  and  when 
— to  amuse  themselves — the  company  gave 
a  performance  in  the  Town  Hall,  Tiger 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  71 

Lily  received  tickets.  Her  guardians,  how- 
ever, forbade  her  attending,  and  further- 
more told  her  that  she  must  never  again 
associate  with  her  new-found  friends. 
She  did  not  answer,  but  when  the  evening 
of  the  performance  came,  stole  from  the 
house  and  went.  The  next  day  there  was  a 
scene,  and  her  long  pent-up  wrath  ex- 
ploded. Her  guardians  stormed  and  finally 

one  of  them  struck  her.     It   was  the    first 

\ 
blow   she  had    ever    received   and  she  was 

almost  delirious  with  anger.  That  night 
she  left  her  home  forever,  flying  to  her 
theatrical  friends.  She  was  given  a  posi- 
tion in  the  company  and  for  a  time  fared 
well,  but  she  -was  beautiful,  she  was  inno- 
cent, she  was  but  a  child  and  her  associates 
were  thoroughly  unscrupulous  ;  her  sur- 
roundings tended  to  blunt  her  moral  per- 
ceptions, and  her  very  innocence  caused  her 
downfall.  A  brute  took  advantage  of  her 
youth,  and  before  she  was  a  woman  she 


72  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

was— oh,  the  pity  of  it ! — one  of  the 
fallen.  Think  of  it,  you  who  know  what 
this  means  ! — she,  poor  child,  did  not,  she 
but  followed  in  the  footsteps  of  her 
companions,  she  was  conscious  of  no 
wrong— but  the  consciousness  came  with 
womanhood  and  with  it  the  knowledge 
of  the  impotency  of  regret  and  repent- 
ance. She  left  her  old  companions  to  join 
Durrell  and  his  company,  but,  while  the 
change  was  greatly  for  the  better,  she  had 
not  freed  herself  from  the  old  life,  nor 
could  she  ever,  try  as  she  might.  There 
were  times  when  she  sought  oblivion  in  the 
wine-cup,  desperate  in  her  sorrow,  but 
there  always  came  the  reaction.  She  had 
taken  her  place  and  must  abide  by  her  choice 
through  life  ;  there  was  no  alternative,  rebel 
as  she  might.  The  mud  of  the  roadway 
clings  forever  about  a  woman's  skirts,  but 
scarcely  soils  the  garments  of  a  man. 

The  knowledge  of  all  this  softened  Leo,  and 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  73 

he  treated  her  with  a  kindly  consideration 
and  respect  that  drew  her  unconsciously  to- 
wards him.  Her  woman's  heart  yearned  for 
sympathy  and  he  gave  it  to  her,  and  then  her 
yearning  grew  into  love.  He  was  blind  to 
her  infatuation,  and  only  saw  in  her  an  object 
for  sympathy  and  a  beautiful  woman  whom 
he  hoped  to  paint  in  a  picture  that  would 
make  him  famous. 

On  the  morning  of  the  last  day  of  the 
company's  engagement  in  New  York, 
Leo  read  his  manuscript  before  them 
all.  Little  was  said  before  him  in  praise 
or  dispraise  of  the  play,  and  he  left  them 
to  discuss  their  impressions,  stating,  how- 
ever, that  he  proposed  leaving  for  Boston 
on  the  night  express. 

Durrell  called  upon  him  later  in  the  day, 
bringing  the  verdict  of  his  players. 
"The  piece  is  all  right,"  he  said,  "but 
the  burlesque  is  hardly  broad  enough ; 
introduce  a  couple  of  topical  songs,  some 


74  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

chances  for  skirt  dancing,  and  for  horse- 
play by  the  comedians  and  it  will  go ;  " 
and  turning  over  the  leaves  of  the  manu- 
script, he  gave  some  examples  of  what  he 
meant. 

'''But,  my  dear  Durrell,"  cried  Leo, 
"  don't  you  see  that  my  subject  is  one 
requiring  the  utmost  delicacy  to  burlesque  ? 
Such  broad  bits  of  humor  as  you  suggest, 
while  they  may  be  very  well  in  their  way, 
are  entirely  out  of  place  in  a  piece  like 
'King  Robert.'" 

"Yes,  yes,  that's  all  very  well  from  a 
literary  standpoint,"  answered  Durrell  ; 
"but  people  who  go  to  see  a  burlesque 
are  seldom  literary,  and  their  palates  are 
not  educated  to  appreciate  a  delicate 
flavor,  they  must  have  something  with  a 
tang,  and  what  they  demand  I  must 
supply." 

"Well,"  replied  Leo,  decidedly,  "in 
that  case  you  are  not  to  be  blamed,  of 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  75 

course,  but  I  do  not  think  I  can  suit 
such  tastes.  If  my  work  cannot  be  pre- 
sented as  it  was  conceived,  I  do  not  think 
I  care  to  have  it  done  at  all.  You  have 
a  public  to  please  whose  tastes  you  must 
observe,  but  I,  on  the  other  hand,  have  a 
reputation  as  a  writer  to  maintain  which 
will  not  permit  me  to  lower  the  standard  of 
my  work  by  writing  what  you  require." 

"Tut,  tut!"  cried  Durrell,  "what's  the 
use  of  splitting  hairs.  If  you  don't  wish  it 
known  that  you  are  the  author  of  the  piece, 
use  a  nom-de-plume.  The  price  we  have 
agreed  upon  is  larger  than  Hermes  pays 
for  ten  times  the  work  there  is  in  the  play, 
and  as  for  your  standard,  keep  it  up  in  the 
paper." 

"  There  is  a  great  deal  in  having  one's 
ideas  correctly  presented,  Durrell,"  answered 
Leo,  "  and  you  want  to  distort  mine  into  a 
caricature  of  what  they  really  are ;  and  as 
they  are  but  caricatures  originally,  you  are 


70  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

striving  to  make  a  caricature  of  a  caricature  : 
just  think  what  an  abortion  'that  would 
be." 

"  You  are  altogether  too  nice  in  your 
ideas,"  snapped  Durrell,  impatiently. 

"  Perhaps  I  am,  and  I  will  not  decide  on 
this  thing  now.  Give  me  a  little  time  to 
think  it  over." 

"  Very  well,  I'll  see  you  in  Boston  next 
week.  You  know  we  close  here  to-night  and 
leave  for  Boston  to-morrow  and  lay  over 
there  a  day  or  two.  I  sold  out  a  few  days' 
time  here  to  an  amateur  company.  We 
play  through  New  England  for  the  next  two 
weeks,  and  you  and  I  can  meet  and  settle 
matters  before  the  company  goes  west." 

"  So  be  it." 

' '  By  the  way,  Leo,  why  don't  you  wait 
over  until  to-morrow  and  travel  with  us  ? 
See  how  it  storms." 

"I  can't,"  replied  Leo,  thinking  of  Rose. 
"  I've  stayed  here  longer  than  I  ought  to 


A  MORAL  BLOT. 


now;  I  have  something  to  attend  to  which  I 
do  not  like  to  put  off." 

"Business  comes  first,  of  course.  Well, 
till  we  meet  again,"  and  with  a  hearty  hand- 
shake, Durrell  took  his  leave. 

Half  an  hour  later  Tiger  Lily  called  with 
little  Ada. 

' '  Ada  insisted  we  should  call  again  before 
you  left,  and  here  we  are,"  said  Tiger  Lily, 
as  she  entered. 

"And  you  are  both  welcome,  he  replied 
heartily.  "How is  the  little  one  to-day  ? " 

"I'm  nicely,"  said  Ada,  perching  herself 
upon  his  knee.  ' '  You  ought  to  feel  flattered 
at  our  coming  to  see  you  through  all  this 
storm." 

"  Indeed  I  am,  little  one,  highly  flat- 
tered." 

"I  like  you  to  call  me  '  little  one,'  it's  so 
much  nicer  than  Ada." 

"Do  you  think  so?" 

"Yes.     I  think  you've  got  a  special  knack 


78  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

about  nicknames  ;  now  you  call  Tiger  Lily, 
Miss  Larry,  and  she  likes  it  too." 

' '  How  do  you  know  that,  Ada  ? "  asked 
Tiger  Lily  with  a  smile. 

"  'Cause  you  laugh  when  anybody  calls 
you  it.  Say,"  she  continued,  turning  again 
to  Leo,  "are  you  going  away  to-day, 
truly?" 

"Truly." 

"Won't  we  see  you  any  more  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  hope  so." 

"When?" 

"  Perhaps  next  week." 

"  Well,  I'm  glad,  'cause  I  thought  may- 
be we  wouldn't,  and  it's  hard  on  a  person  to 
lose  old  friends,  and  we  are  old  friends,  ain't 
we  ?  "> 

"Yes,  indeed,  very  old  friends,  little  one. 
I've  loved  the  girls  ever  since  I  learned  to 
talk ;  I  love  them  now,  and  you  are  one  of 
the  most  favored  ones,"  and  with  a  merry 
laugh  Leo  kissed  the  child's  upturned  face. 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  79 

Tiger  Lily  watched  them  wistfully  and 
sighed. 

"  A  penny  for  your  thoughts,  Miss  Larry!  " 
he  cried.  "What  lucky  swain  caused  that 
sigh  ?  Here,  little  one,"  he  continued,  de- 
taching a  tiny  gold  charm  from  his  watch- 
chain,  "  wear  this  on  your  necklace,  to 

remember  me  by." 

\ 

"  Oh,  thank  you, I'm  ever  so  much  obliged," 
cried  the  child  delightedly,  as  she  took  the 
little  gift.  *' '  I  don't  need  anything  to  remem- 
ber you  by,  but  still,  I  shall  like  something  to 
keep,  you  have  given  me. " 

"What  an  interest  you  take  in  the  child," 
observed  Tiger  Lily. 

"Well,  you  see  she  takes  a  great  interest 
in  me,  and  I  only  reciprocate, "  laughed  Leo. 

"Can  I  look  at  your  pictures,  please?" 
interrupted  Ada,  gathering  up  an  armful  of 
illustrated  papers  and  magazines. 

"Certainly,  little  one,  take  them  over  to 
the  window  where  it  is  lightest. " 


80  A  MORAL  SLOT. 

"You  do  not  always  reciprocate  such  an 
interest, "  said  Tiger  Lily  absently. 

"  Why  do  you  say  that  ?  " 

"  Do  you  think  you  do  ?  " 

"I  hope  I  am  not  ungrateful." 

"No,  not  that." 

"What  then?" 

"I  sometimes  think  you  are  strangely 
unobservant  for  one  who  writes  and 
paints,  and  who  is  consequently  ever  on 
the  watch  for  little  traits  of  character 
and  tricks  of  expression,"  she  said,  in 
the  same  absent,  dreamy  way.  "People's 
motives,  and  sometimes  their  thoughts, 
ought  to  be  more  apparent  to  you  than  to 
others." 

"I  can  be  blinded  as  well  as  another,"  he 
said,  with  a  puzzled  frown. 

"Did  you  never  think  that  you  maybe 
blind  yourself  ? "  she  asked  with  a  far-away 
look. 

"  I  do  not  understand  you." 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  81 

She  sighed,  and  said,  "  Perhaps  it  is  as 
well  that  you  do  not." 

"  I  sometimes  think  that  you  do  not  un- 
derstand yourself,"  cried  Leo,  impetuously. 
"You  were  not  born  for  such  a  life  as  you 
lead  ;  you  have  a  sympathetic  heart,  a  woman- 
liness, that  unfits  you  for  it.  It  is  suited 
only  to  women  like  Ada's  mother,  selfish, 
callous  creatures,  with  no  aim  higher  than 
self-indulgence.  You  could  make  some  man 
happy  ;  Guida  never  could." 

"  I  could  make  some  man  happy  ?  Maybe, 
I  cannot  say,  but  could  some  man  make 
me  happy  ? "  murmured  Tiger  Lily,  tremu- 
lously. 

"I  think  so,  if  I  read  you  rightly;  but  you 
have  just  said  that  I  do  not  read  character 
well,  so  perhaps  that  is  hardly  for  me  to  say  ; 
it  would  all  depend  upon  yourself." 

Tiger  Lily  was  agitated ;  she  was  pale, 
and  her  hands  trembled  as  she  toyed  with 

the  fringe  upon  her  chair.     There  was  a 
6 


82  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

tremor  in  her  voice   as   she   replied.     ' '  Not 
all,  I  might  try,  but  my  success  would  de- 
pend  largely  upon  what  manner  of  man  he 
was.    Oh,  Leo,  if  he  were  like  you,  dear — 
she  paused  suddenly,  checked  by  an  instant 
realization   of  what    her    impetuosity    had 
hurried  her  into  saying  and  covered  her  face 
with  her  hands. 

Leo  rose  to  his  feet  with  an  exclamation  of 
surprise  and  pain.  He  glanced  towards  Ada 
to  see  if  the  child  had  heard  the  actress's 
words  and  saw  that  she  was  deep  in  picture- 
land,  utterly  oblivious  of  what  was  going  on 
around  her. 

' '  Miss  Varney , "  he  said,  after  a  painful 
pause,  "when  I  return  home  I  shall  be  en- 
gaged to  a  young  girl  whom  I  love  with  all 
my  heart : " 

"  Oh ! "  she  exclaimed  passionately, 
"please  forget  what  I  have  said,  I  did  not 
mean  to  tell  you,  I — I — Oh,  I  am  bad  enough, 
Heaven  knows,  but  I  have  not  sunk  to " 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  83 

"  Ah,  Miss  Larry,"  he  said  kindly,  touched 
by  her  distress,  "I  may  have  been  blind  to 
some  things,  as  you  say,  but  I  think  I  have 
read  you  well,  after  all,  believe  me,  your 
words  have  not  changed  my  good  opinion  of 

you." 

"  We  shall  see  little  of  each  other  here- 
after," she  said,  bitterly;  "a  good  thing,  too, 
— but — but — you  will  always  be  my  friend  ?  " 

"  I  willtry." 

"  And — she — tell  me  about  her." 

"We  have  been  companions  from  child- 
hood," he  replied,  "she  is  good,  beautiful, 
innocent  as  Heaven,  and  she  loves  me. " 

' '  How  his  love  for  her  is  written  on  his 
very  face,"  thought  Tiger  Lily,  as  she 
watched  him  wistfully.  "What  is  her 
name  ? "  she  asked. 

"Eose." 

"  I  release  you  from  your  promise." 

"  What  promise  ?" 

"  To  be  my  friend,"  she  answered,  sadly. 


84  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

"  If  you  wed  her  you  cannot  keep  it.  She 
is  pure  and  innocent,  you  say,  therefore  she 
cannot  be  rny  friend  ;  as  her  husband  you  can- 
not associate  with  a  burlesque  actress  without 
causing  comment,  perhaps  jealousy  on  her 
part,  and  consequent  unhappiness  to  your- 
self and  this  I  will  not  have.  Come  Ada,  we 
must  go." 

"You  are  too  good  a  woman  for  the  place 
you  fill,"  said  Leo  earnestly. 

"  I  have  fallen  in  the  mire  and  the  stain  is 
indelible.  Good-bye,  Leo,"  she  said  tear- 
fully, "  God  bless  and  prosper  you." 

' '  Good-bye,  Miss  Larry,  believe  me,  I  am 
your  friend  at  heart,  and — and  I  feel  for  you. 
Good-bye,  little  one,"  and  he  stooped  to  kiss 
the  child  and  hide  his  face. 

Tiger  Lily  laughed  bitterly  and  said, 
"  Were  I  other  than  I  am  I  should  have  de- 
served more  than  your  pity,  but  as  it  is — 
Good-bye,"  and  she  was  gone  with  the  child. 

For  a  long  time  Leo  sat  thinking,  after 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  85 

their  departure  and  then,  with  an  impatient 
sigh,  he  began  to  write  a  parable  for  Hermes, 
seeking  to  distract  his  thoughts  by  work. 
And  he  wrote  thus  : 

"  Long,  long  ago  lived  a  race  of  men  called  the 
Humanii,  famed  far  and  wide  for  their  beauty, 
their  nobility  of  character  and  'their  moral 
purity.  For  years  they  dwelt  happily  in  a  fair 
and  fertile  valley  and  were  the  favored  of  the 
Gods  until  a  great  man  of  their  race,  Athea, 
by  name,  defied  the  Gods  and  the  people  upheld 
him. 

"  To  punish  the  Humanii  for  their  rebellion  the 
Gods  created  a  monster,  half  man,  half  beast, 
called  the  Lustous  that  for  a  long  time  mercilessly 
ravaged  the  country  and  slew  the  people,  despite 
their  resistance.  Their  utmost  efforts  were  hope- 
less, for  the  monster  was  so  terrible  that  his  very 
appearance  deprived  the  bravest  of  courage. 
After  a  time  a  treaty  was  made  with  the  Lustous, 
whereby  the  monster  agreed  to  cease  his  work  of 
devastation  provided  the  Humanii  sent  to  him  as 
a  sacrifice,  at  stated  intervals,  the  most  beautiful 
maiden  of  their  nation. 


86  A  MOEAL  BLOT. 

"  Eve  was  the  first  selected,  and  she  set  forth 
amid  the  cries  and  wailings  of  a  great  concourse, 
for  she  was  as  fair  and  pure  as  the  new-fallen 
snow  and,  even  in  her  great  fear,  a  blush  came  to 
her  cheeks  when  she  found  herself  the  centre  of 
so  much  attention,  and-  she  modestly  cast  down 
her  eyes.  The  escort  that  accompanied  her  to  the 
Lustous  mountain,  den  came  back  without  her,  in 
silence  and  sorrow. 

"  And  time  rolled  on  until  it  was  necessary  to 
find  a  second  sacrifice  for  the  monster  and 
Thais  was  the  maiden  selected.  At  the  foot 
of  the  hills,  where  dwelt  the  Lustous,  Thais 
and  her  escort  met  Eve,  the  first  sacrifice,  who 
laughed  and  said  to  her  weeping  successor, 
'  Weep  not,  no  harm  will  befall  thee,  and  when 
another  comes  to  take  thy  place  thou  wilt  return 
as  I  do.' 

"  When  Eve  returned  with  the  escort,  a  great 
crowd  gathered  about  them,  shouting  with  joy 
that  the  beautiful  maid  was  returned  to  them. 
She  did  not  blush  and  cast  down  her  eyes,  as 
when  she  left  her  home,  but  rather  invited  the 
gaze  of  the  multitude  upon  her  charms,  and 
laughed  and  chatted  with  the  men.  She  was  the 
same,  yet  changed,  her  beauty,  which  had  before 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  87 

been  cloaked  with  modesty  now  assumed  a  garb 
of  boldness.  Many  men  sought  her  company,  and 
in  these  men  evil  traits,  before  unknown  among 
the  Humanii,  began  to  appear. 

"  And  by  and  by,  Thais  returned  and  another 
maid  went  forth  to  the  den  of  the  Lustous  and 
Eve  and  Thais  were  much  together,  and  they  be- 
guiled other  maidens  to  be  of  their  company, 
teaching  them  to  assume  the  unblushing  man- 
ners which  they  had  learned.  For  those  who 
were  thus  taught  there  was  no  change;  if  once 
they  entered  upon  the  ways  of  the  monster  his 
ways  must,  perforce,  be  their  ways  thenceforward, 
forever.  And  all  the  men  and  women  who  were 
followers  of  Eve  and  Thais  began  to  develop  evil 
traits  unknown  before. 

"  In  time  the  number  of  maidens  who  had  been 
to  the  monster's  den  increased,  and  as  their  num- 
ber grew,  so  did  their  following  until  the  Humanii 
became  a  tainted  race.  So  low  did  this  once  noble 
people  fall  that  the  Lustous  himself  was  sum- 
moned to  rule  the  land,  and  they  cast  aside  their 
name  Humanii  and  called  themselves  the  Lustii, 
in  honor  of  their  new  ruler,  and  the  women  who 
had  been  sent  to  the  den  of  the  monster  were  raised 
to  a  high  rank  and  called  Wantons. 


A  MORAL  BLOT. 


Cycles  of  years  have  passed,  and  the  race  of  the 
Humanii  has  disappeared,  yet  the  descendants  of 
the  Wantons  still  work  ill  to  mankind,  as  the 
monster  taught  their  ancestresses,  ages  ago,  but 
they  know  not  their  origin. 


A  MORAL  SLOT.  89 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  BLOOM  AND  THE  SERE. 

"  Who  wisely  weds  in  his  maturer  years 
Then  let  him  choose  a  damsel  young  and  fair 
To  bless  his  age." 

POPE     (January  and  May). 

UPON  his  return  to  Boston,  Oliver  Choate 
found  Mrs.  Maynard  again  suffering  from 
her  old  trouble,  greatly  to  the  alarm  of 
Rose,  who  until  then  had  no  idea  of  the 
nature  of  her  mother's  ailment  ;  Mrs.  May- 
nard soon  rallied,  however,  but  the  doctor 
cautioned  her  very  particularly  to  beware  of 
any  excitement  or  strong  emotion. 

Choate  was  kind  and  attentive  in  the  ex- 
treme, and  especially  was  he  gentle  to  Rose, 
towards  whom  he  showed  a  tender  commisera- 
tion that  she  was  shrewd  enough  to  thorough- 


90  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

ly  understand.  One  evening,  as  she  sat  with 
her  mother  and  Choate,  a  letter  was  brought 
to  her  ;  excusing  herself,  she  eagerly  opened 
it,  and  the  older  people,  with  very  different 
emotions,  noticed  the  smile  and  blush  with 
which  she  read  it.  Shortly  afterwards  she 
left  the  room,  saying  as  she  went,  "Leo 
sends  his  regards." 

Mrs.  Maynard  turned  to  Choate  with  a 
smile  and  said,  "It  is  not  hard  to  see  how 
matters  stand  between  the  young  people." 

Oliver  Choate  scowled,  bit  his  lips,  and 
abruptly  left  the  room. 

He  followed  the  young  girl,  and  confront- 
ing her  abruptly,  exclaimed,  "Kose,  I  want 
to  have  an  understanding  with  you. " 

The  girl  started  and  changed  color,  "About 
what  ?  "  she  asked  hypocritically. 

"  You  know  well  enough  ;  I  want  you  to 
choose  here  and  now  between  Leo  Ormsby 
and  me  ;  between  the  man  who  can  offer  you 
a  life  of  economy,  such  as  you  have  always 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  91 

led,  and  one  who  offers  you  a  palace  and  all 
that  wealth  can  buy." 

"You — I — you  are  very  abrupt." 

"  I  make  you  .a  simple  proposition,  Eose, 
we  will  not  discuss  sentiment  now,  will  you 
choose  a  genteel  pittance  or  affluence  ?  You 
know  that  Leo  is  unable  to  give  you  more 
than  you  have,  and  if  you  are  content  with 
that  we  will  say  no  more  about  it."  He 
paused,  tremblingly  awaiting  her  reply. 

11  Oh,  I  hate  economy,  I  hate  it  1"  she  ex- 
claimed fiercely. 

"  Then  marry  me." 

"But  Leo " 

"  Are  you  betrothed  to  him  ? " 

"  No,  but " 

"  Then  follow  your  best  judgment ;  I  know 
you  prefer  the  younger  man's  love  and  the 
old  man's  wealth,  but  you  may  not  have 
both.  Believe  me,  I  will  be  a  good 
husband  ;  there  is  nothing  I  would  not  do  for 
you " 


92  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  Rose,  "mother  would 
never  hear  of  it  !  " 

"Let  me  try  to  win  her  consent,  I  am 
sure  I  can." 

"  I  am  not  so  sure  ;  Leo  is  her  prime  favor- 
ite ;  besides,  I  do  not  know  but  what  I  prefer 
him  myself." 

"  I  can  understand  that  it  is  hard  for  you 
to  decide,  my  dear ;  let  your  mother  do  so 
for  you.  I  will  state  the  case  to  her,  bluntly, 
and  we  will  abide  by  her  verdict. " 

"Speak  to  her,  if  you  will,"  said  Rose,  as 
she  turned  to  leave  him,  "but  I  do  not 
promise  anything." 

"I  win  !  "  muttered  Choate  exultantly. 

He  returned  to  Mrs.  Maynard  at  once,  and 
spoke  of  Leo  and  Rose. 

I 

"They  will  be  betrothed  soon.  I  think," 
smilingly  declared  the  widow. 

"Then  you  look  for  serious  results?"  he 
inquired. 

"  Why,  Oliver,  I  am  not  blind,  and  surely 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  93 

you  must  have  seen,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  May- 
nard,  in  surprise. 

"  Yes,  yes,  of  course,"  he  assented,  "  and 
do  you  approve  ? " 

"You  know  I  do,  heartily.  It  seems  to 
me  that  you  are  speaking  very  differently 
from  your  usual  tone  ;  has  anything  occurred 
to  change  you  ? " 

"Yes,  Mrs.  Maynard,  something  has  oc- 
curred which.  I  deem  it  my  duty  to  tell  you 
before  it  is  too  late. 

"Too  late?" 

"  Yes.  Consideration  for  your  health  has 
silenced  me  until  now,  but  the  time  has 
come  when  I  must  speak.  You  know  the 
character  of  Lester  Ingraham,  Leo's  friend, 
a  man  whose  chosen  society  is  the  demi- 
monde, and  you  have  often  heard  me  ask  Leo 
to  give  him  up." 

"Yes,  yes." 

"Ingraham  is  good-hearted  enough,  per- 
haps, but  not  the  man  one  would  select  as  a 


94  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

husband  for  one's  daughter.  I  am  sorry  to 
say,  Mrs.  Maynard,  that  I  have  every  reason 
to  believe  that  Leo  is  one  of  the  same  stamp. " 

1 '  Why — we  never  saw  an  indication — you 
must  be  mistaken — what  makes  you  think 
so  ? " 

' '  I  have  the  best,  the  strongest,  proofs  ; 
believe  me,  I  would  not  thus  pain  you  other- 
wise. I  was  invited  by  Ingraham  to  a  mid- 
night supper  in  New  York.  It  was  the  very 
night  that  Leo  arrived  there,  direct  from 
Rose.  I  went  to  this  supper  and  saw  through 
the  open  door — for  I  did  not  enter  the  supper- 
room,  nor  did  the  people  there  see  me, — I  saw 
Leo  with  his  friends,  seated  at  the  table  with 
a  number  of  women.  Leo  rose,  glass  in  hand, 
and  toasted  one  of  these  creatures,  and  she, 
while  they  drank  her  health,  rose  also,  and 
threw  herself  into  his  arms.  I  did  not  stay 
to  see  more.  And  this  was  on  the  very  night 
he  had  left  Rose,  perhaps  with  kisses  from 
her  pure  lips  upon  his,  to  go  thus  to  one — 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  95 

I  think  I  need  say  no  more;  you  know  me  of 
old.  I  am,  I  have  proven  that  I  am  your 
friend,  and  I  cannot  tell  you  how  it  pains 
me  to  be  the  bearer  of  such  evil  news,  but  it 
is  true." 

Mrs.  Maynard  was  ghastly.  "  God  help 
us  all !  Oliver,  I  believe  you,"  she  cried 
piteously,  "What  shall  I  do?  what  shall  I 
do  ? " 

"I  can  hardly  counsel  you,"  he  answered 
sadly,  but  with  a  fierce  inward  exultation. 

"It  will  break  her  heart,  it  will  break  her 
heart,"  muttered  Mrs.  Maynard,  rising  and 
pacing  unsteadily  up  and  down  the  room, 
"  Oliver,  you  must  find  a  way  out  of  it  all, 
you  must ;  it  is  too  terrible  !  I  want  to  feel 
that  my  girl's  happiness,  that  her  future,  will 
be  secure  when  I  am  gone.  What's  to  be 
done  ?  what's  to  be  done  ?  " 

"Calm  yourself,"  said  Choate  apprehen- 
sively, thinking  of  the  doctor's  warning  and 
fearful  of  the  consequences  of  such  violent 


96  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

agitation,  "this  excitement  will  do  you  no 
good.  Let  us  face  the  difficulty  calmly  and 
rationally.  Here,  be  seated  :  "  and  he  pushed 
a  chair  towards  her. 

"Never  mind  me,  let  us  think  of  Rose,  she 
is  the  one  with  suffering  before  her,  I — Oh  !  " 
she  suddenly  cried  out,  staggering  blindly, 
"I — I  think  I  will  sit — the  chair — the  chair 
-quick!" 

Choate  assisted  her  to  a  seat  and  bent  anx- 
iously over  her.  She  held  her  hand,  tightly 
clenched,  over  her  heart,  and  after  a  moment, 
gasped  painfully,  "  Do  not  alarm  Rose.  I— 
I  am  very  ill  again — must  go  to  my  room — 
call  doctor — not  Rose — Oh  ! " 

Throughout  the  night  the  household  was 
in  a  state  of  suspense.  Dr.  Farns worth 
labored  tirelessly  over  the  sick  woman,  but 
with  little  effect,  and  reluctantly,  at  length, 
he  told  the  anxious  ones  that  she  had  but  a 
few  hours  to  live. 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  97 

Eose  was  led  from  the  sick-room  in  a  help- 
less agony  of  grief,  but  the  invalid  bore  the 
news  bravely. 

The  doctor  had  conquered  her  pain,  and  shi3 
was  in  comparative  ease  when  she  earnestly 
asked  to  be  left  alone"  with  Oliver  Choate  and 
a  clergyman  who  had  been  called  in.  For 
half  an  hour  or  more  the  three  were  closeted 
together,  the  indistinct  murmur  of  their 
voices,  now  and  then  audible  ID  the  hall, 
being  the  only  sign  that  death  had  not  yet 
claimed  his  victim. 

When  Rose  had  sufficiently  subdued  her 
emotion  she  returned  to  her  mother's  room 
to  wait  before  the  door,  with  Doctor  Farns- 
worth  and  the  awe-stricken  servant-maid, 
until  she  could  enter,  to  look  again,  for  the 
last  time  in  life,  upon  the  dear,  kindly  face 
that  had  smiled  with  her  joy,  wept  with  her 
sorrow,  and  been  always  by  with  ready  sym 
pathy.  There  is  no  love  like  mother's  love, 
and  the  thought  that  she  was  about  to  lose  it 


A  MORAL  BLOT. 


brought  to  Rose  a  stronger  realization  of  its 
value.  All  the  sharp,  unfilial  words  that 
had  ever  passed  her  lips  now  returned  to  her 
memory  with  startling  distinctness.  Why 
had  she  not  been  a  better  child  ?  If  she  only 
might  live  the  past  few  years  again, — if  time 
would  but  roll  back  !  But  time  inexorably 
rolled  on,  bringing  nearer,  with  each  tick  of 
the  clock,  the  moment  of  parting. 

Doctor  Farnsworth  was  all  kindness  and 
consideration,  but  he  knew,  from  long  famil- 
iarity with  such  scenes,  that  all  efforts  to 
comfort  the  girl  were  useless,  and  he  did 
not  try  to  check  her  passionate  grief. 

At  length,  after  what  seemed  an  intermi- 
nable time,  the  door  opened  and  Eose  was 
called. 

"Control  yourself,  my  child,"  whispered 
the  doctor,  "  for  your  mother's  sake." 

With  a  mighty  effort,  Rose  forced  back  her 
tears  and  entered  the  room  ;  but  no  sooner  did 
she  behold  the  dying  woman  than  all  her 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  99 

fortitude  forsook  her,  and  she  sank  beside 
the  bed,  hiding  her  face  in  the  coverlet  as  she 
sobbed,  "Mother,  oh,  mother!" 

Mrs.  Maynard  laid  her  hand  tenderly  upon 
the  bowed  head  of  the  grief-stricken  girl, 
saying,  "All  is  for  the  best,  Kose  ;  God's  will 
be  done." 

Oliver  Choate  raised  the  girl  and  said  with 
very  evident  emotion  :  "Rose,  your  mother 
has  something  to  say  to  you,  and  you  must 
control  yourself  to  listen.  I  know  it  is  all 
*rery  hard,  but  you  must  bear  up.  She  is 
very  weak  and  must  not  tax  her  strength 
too  far,  so  listen,  child,  listen  to  her,  it  is  for 
your  own  good." 

Rose  dried  her  eyes  mechanically,  and  as- 
suming a  kneeling  posture,  took  her  mother's 
hand  in  both  of  hers,  and  said,  with  a  sob, 
"What  is  it,  mother,  dear  ?  " 

"Rose,  I  am  thinking  of  your  future." 

"Don't  think  of  me,  mother." 

"  I  must,  my  darling  ;  listen." 


100  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

"  Yes,  dear,"  sobbed  Rose,  but  her  thoughts 
stumbled  blindly  after  her  mother's  words  ; 
she  hardly  followed  their  meaning,  so  dazed 
was  she  by  the  suddenness  of  the  blow  which 
was  falling. 

' '  I  shall  leave  you  penniless.  Mr.  Choate 
offers  you  a  home  :  I  want  you  to  accept 
it." 

"  I  will,  mother,  gratefully." 

"  That  is  not  all.  If  you  live  in  his  house 
evil  tongues  will  slander  you,  you  must  give 
him  the  right  to  protect  you.  You  mu*t 
become  his  wife.  Will  you  ? " 

"  Mother,  if  you  wish  it,"  replied  Rose. 

"I  want  to  see  you  his  wife  before  I  die." 
Another  outburst  of  grief  from  Rose  inter- 
rupted the  dying  woman,  but  in  a  moment  it 
was  controlled.  "  I  want  you  to  be  married, 
here,  now,  by  my  bedside." 

"Mother,  this  is  no  time,  no  place." 

"I  wish  it,  Rose." 
,  "Yes,  mother." 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  101 

"  Mr.  Lorrimer  is  here  ;  he  can  perform 
the  ceremony." 

"  Oh,  mother  ! "  sobbed  the  girl  franti- 
cally. 

"Call  Dr.  Farnsworth  and  Margaret,  they 
can  be  witnesses." 

Weeping  bitterly  Rose  obeyed.  While  she 
was  away  from  the  bedside  Choate  bent 
over  the  invalid,  who  whispered  solemnly, 
' '  She  is  saved  from  him.  I  trust  you,  Oliver ; 
you  must  be  very  good  to  her." 

He  turned  away  trembling,  his  face  ashy 
pale  and  convulsed  with  emotion,  "  Dying  1 " 
he  muttered  to  himself,  "  surely  it  was  not 
murder  !  I  did  not  mean  that  my  trick 
should —  •"  he  checked  himself  suddenly 
and  peered  at  the  others  from  under  his 
brows  to  assure  himself  they  had  not  heard 
his  words. 

Rose  returned  with  the  doctor  and  the 
servant,  and  held  the  dying  woman's  hand 
while  the  Reverend  Mr.  Lorrimer  spoke  the 


102  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

impressive  words  that  bound  her  forever  to 
Oliver  Choate. 

' '  Will  you  have  this  man  to  be  your  wed- 
ded husband,  to  live  together  after  God's 
ordinance  in  the  holy  estate  of  matrimony, 
to  love,  honor  and  keep  him,  in  sickness  and 
in  health  and  forsaking  all  others,  keep  thee 
only  unto  him  so  long  as  you  both  shall  live  ? " 

Her  "yes"  was  spoken  almost  uncon- 
sciously. And  Choate  responded  with  none 
of  the  exultation  he  had  dreamed  of;  guilt 
oppressed  his  conscience,  and  conscience  de- 
stroyed his  passion. 

When  the  minister  had  duly  pronounced 
them  man  and  wife,  Mrs.  Maynard  gave  a 
great  sigh  and  murmured,  "Now  I  am  at 
peace." 

Dr.  Farnsworth  hurried  to  the  bedside  and 
bent  over  the  invalid.  In  a  moment  he 
stood  erect  and,  taking  Rose  by  the  hand,  he 
said  sadly  and  sympathetically,  "It  is  all 
over,  Mrs.  Choate." 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  103 

Eose  stood  dazed.  All  over  ?  Her  mother 
gone  ?  Mrs.  Choate  ?  She  was  married  and 
in  a  few  days  Leo  would  return.  Leo  !  She 
had  not  thought  of  him,  and  now  she  was 
alone,  all  alone,  she  might  not  even  turn 
to  him  for  sympathy.  She  looked  wildly 
about,  from  one  to  another.  Her  husband 
approached  to  comfort  her,  but  she  saw  the 
doctor  draw  the  sheet  over  that  dear,  still, 
smiling  face  on  the  bed,  and  with  a  wild 
hysterical  laugh,  fainted. 


104  A  MORAL  BLOT. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

A  BITTER  HOME-COMING. 

"  But  there  where  I  had  garnered  up  my  heart, 
Where  either  I  must  live  or  bear  no  life, 
The  fountain  from  the  which  my  current  runs, 
Or  else  dries  up  ;  to  be  discarded  thence  !" 

SHAKSPKKE  (Othello). 

WITH  a  joyful  elation  that  prompted  him 
to  hum  merrily,  to  whistle,  to  drum  with  his 
fingers  and  express  his  feelings  by  many 
little  outward  signs,  Leo  took  the  night 
train  for  Boston.  Snugly  cased  in  a  dainty 
satin  box  in  his  pocket,  he  carried  a  ring,  in 
which  glittered  a  diamond  of  great  brill- 
iancy, for  Rose.  The  ring  that  was  to  finally 
bind  them  together  forever,  in  the  harmony 
of  souls  which  is  so  perfect  a  mingling  that 
one  only  seems  to  exist ;  the  bond  of  love 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  105 

which  makes  the  true  marriage.  That  which 
is  said  before  the  altar  is  but  the  outward 
evidence,  the  proclaiming  to  the  world  of 
what  has  already  happened  within. 

The  weather  was  bad.  For  two  or  three 
days  it  had  been  raining  heavily,  and  there 
was  still  no  sign  of  clearing.  The  wind 
rushed  wildly  by  the  flying  train,  dashing 
the  raindrops  with  a  swift  vicious  patter 
against  the  window  panes,  but  Leo  gave  no 
heed  to  the  weather,  his  "thoughts  were  in 
Boston  and  his  impatience  to  reach  home 
and  Eose  was  almost  unbearable.  The  mo- 
ments seemed  to  drag  interminably.  He 
threw  away  his  half -smoked  cigar  and  sought 
his  berth  in  the  sleeper,  thinking  to  pass  the 
hours  in  sleep.  For  a  long  time  he  tossed 
restlessly,  but  at  length  the  unceasing, 
monotonous  rumble  of  the  train  lulled  his 
tired  senses  to  rest. 

He  was  awakened  by  the  shrill,  piercing 
shriek  of  the  locomotive's  whistle  and  the 


106  ^  MORAL  BLOT. 

jarring  of  the  brakes,  turned  on  suddenly, 
with  full  force  to  stop  the  train.  All  was 
confusion  in  the  car,  at  once,  and,  unable  to 
ascertain  the  cause  of  the  trouble  from  any 
one  about  him,  Leo  hurriedly  dressed  and 
went  out.  The  rain  was  still  pouring  in  tor- 
rents and  the  night  was  inky  black.  Turn- 
ing up  his  coat  collar  with  a  shudder  and 
pulling  his  cap  over  his  ears,  he  stepped  from 
the  car  platform  to  the  ground.  A  splash 
and  spatter  told  him  he  had  landed  in  a 
puddle.  Here  and  there  he  could  see  the 
glimmer  of  some  trainman's  lantern  which 
with  the  long  row  of  lights  from  the  windows 
of  the  motionless  train,  were  the  only  spots 
that  broke  the  blackness  of  the  night.  He 
walked  forward  to  the  locomotive,  and,  in  the 
circle  of  light  cast  by  the  engine  fires,  found 
the  conductor  surrounded  by  about  a  dozen 
men. 

"  It's  too  dark  to  see  just  how  bad  it  is," 
the  conductor  was  saying,  "  and  we'll  have 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  107 

to  lay  over  for  an  hour  or  two,  and  wait  for 
daylight.  'Twouldn't  be  worth  while  now  to 
go  back,  till  we  find  out  how  we  stand  an'  I 
wouldn't  dare,  anyhow.  I  don't  know  what 
other  trains  may  be  behind,  an'  I  won't  run 
no  risk.  A  washout's  bad  enough  without 
a  smashup." 

11  Where  are  we  ?  "  asked  a  passenger. 

"  In  the  meanest  place  on  the  road.  Not 
a  town  anywhere  near,  and  a  nice  thick  woods 
all  around  us." 

"That's  pleasant." 

"  Wai,  I'll  git  ye  out  of  it  quick's  I  can. 
I've  sent  back  to  telegraph  for  help  ;  that's 
all  I  can  do  now." 

"The  more  hurry  the  less  speed,"  mut- 
tered Leo  ruefully  as  he  tramped  back, 
through  mud  and  rain,  to  his  place  on  the 
train. 

Day  dawned  and  the  outlook  was  gloomy 
in  the  extreme.  The  rain  still  poured,  and 
there  was  little  prospect  of  the  track  being 


108  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

repaired  for  some  hours.  With  several 
others,  Leo  undertook  to  walk  to  a  village 
some  two  miles  distant,  and  with  much  diffi- 
culty they  reached  the  place,  hired  a  team  and 
drove  to  the  nearest  railway  station  on  the 
other  side  of  the  washout.  It  was  an  out-of- 
the-way  spot  and  they  were  compelled  to  wait 
a  weary  time  for  a  train  which  they  found, 
after  all,  did  not  make  connections,  and  left 
them  to  wait  again  at  another  dreary  country 
depot.  It  was  nine  o'clock  that  night  when 
Leo  reached  Boston,  tired,  dirty,  and  hungry, 
but  full  of  delight  to  think  that  he  was  once 
more  near  Rose. 

He  jumped  into  a  hack  and  was  driven  di- 
rectly to  the  dear,  familiar  house.  He  ran 
lightly  up  the  steps  and  pulled  the  bell  vigor- 
ously. A  terrific  peal  was  the  result  of  his 
exertion  and  he  laughed  aloud  at  the  noise. 
The  servant  maid  opened  the  door  and  he 
stepped  in. 

"  Hullo,  Margaret,"  he  cried  cheerily  as  he 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  109 

removed  his  coat,  how  are  they  all  ?  Well, 
I  suppose?" 

"Oh,  Mr.  Leo,"  she  said,  with  a  stupid, 
frightened  look. 

' '  Well,  what's  wrong  ?  What  makes  you 
stare  at  me  like  that  ?  Is  Eose 

"It's  Mrs.  Maynard,  sir." 

"What,  another  of  her  attacks?  Poor 
lady  ! " 

"She's  dead,  sir.' 

"What?" 

"Yes,  sir,  and  buried." 

"  Good  Heavens  ! " 

"  And— and  Miss  Eose " 

"  Is  she  well,  is  she  well  ?    Speak,  girl ! " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  My  poor,  poor  girl  !     Where  is  she  ? " 

"  In  the  sitting-room,  sir." 

"This  is  awful.  I'll  go  to  her  at  once,  as 
I  am.  Take  my  valise  to  my  room,  please." 
He  made  his  way  to  the  sitting-room  and 
found  Eose  alone.  She  did  not  see  him  but 


110  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

sat,  absorbed  in  thought,  gazing  intently 
into  the  fire  that  flashed  and  crackled  on  the 
hearth.  There  was  a  sadness  in  her  post- 
ure that  her  mourning  garb  served  to 
heighten,  and  Leo's  heart  thrilled  with  pity 
for  her. 

"  Rose,''  he  said  softly. 

With  a  little  cry  of  terror  she  clutched  the 
arms  of  her  chair  and  turned  a  pallid  face 
to  him  that  showed  traces  of  much  weeping 
and  care  in  the  dark  circles  under  the  blood- 
shot eyes.  "You,  Leo  !"she  gasped. 

"Yes,  dear,  it  is  I.  Do  not  rise.  Why 
did  you  not  write  me  of  your  great  sorrow 
that  I  might  come  to  comfort  you  ?  " 

"I — I — Oh,  Leo  !"  a  burst  of  tears  choked 
her  utterance. 

"There,  there,  dear,  never  mind,  I  can 
quite  understand  that  at  such  a  time  you 
could  not  think.  I  am  here  now  and  I  know 
all,  so  I  can  help  you  to  bear  it.  Now  don't 
cry  any  more,  be  a  brave  little  woman," 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  Ill 

and  he  drew  up  a  chair  and  seated  himself 
by  her  side. 

"No,  Leo,  you  don't  know  all,    I — I " 

"  But  I  do,"  he  interrupted,  "you  are  left 
penniless,  eh  ?  Well,  what  of  that  ?  I  have 
enough  for  two,  and  you  shall  share  with  me. 
You  -knew  all  along  that  you  were  to  be  my 
wife,  didn't  you,  dear  ?  and  this  misfortune 
only  binds  us  closer  together.  Why,  I 
brought  the  ring  for  you  from  New  York, 
see,  isn't  it  a  beauty  ?  "  and  he  took  the  little 
satin  box  from  his  pocket. 

"  Put  it  away,  put  it  away  !  "  cried  Eose, 
almost  inarticulately  as  she  turned  away 
from  him  to  hide  her  face. 

"  Pardon  me,  dear,"  he  said,  as  he  obeyed 
her  ' '  it  was  wrong  and  selfish  of  me  to  bring 
it  forth  at  such  a  time,  but  my  heart " 

"  Mr.  Ormsby,  I  forbid  you  to  speak  so 
to  me,"  said  Eose,  with  an  effort.  How 
she  despised  herself  as  she  spoke  and  how 
noble  he  seemed,  how  gentle,  how  full  of 


112  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

tender  sympathy,  but  she  must  end  it  all, 
she  must,  at  once  and  forever. 

Leo  looked  at  her  in  surprise,  but  her  pale, 
sad  face,  her  gloomy  dress,  and  her  evident 
agitation  filled  him  with  pity  and  he  replied 
gently,  "As  you  please." 

' '  I  must  also  request  that  you  find  another 
lodging.  I  need  your  room." 

Leo  smiled.  "  That  is  all  right  enough," 
he  replied.  • "  At  present  it  is  hardly  proper 
that  I  should  remain  here,  but  by-and- 

by-  -" 

She  rose  to  her  feet  tremblingly,  and 
choked  back  a  sob.  With  a  miserable  effort 
to  appear  dignified  she  half  whispered,  "  My 
husband  wishes  it,"  and  then  sank  back  into 
her  chair,  sobbing  uncontrollably. 

Leo  started  up  with  an  exclamation  of 
dismay:  "My  dear  child,  you  are  ill,"  he 
cried. 

"No,"  she  sobbed  wildly,  "I  am  mar- 
ried," 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  113 

For  a  moment  he  stood  looking  at  her  in 
unbelief,  but  her  distress  served  to  convince 
him  that  there  was  more  in  her  words  than 
he  had  supposed.  He  felt  a  great  heart-sick- 
ness creep  over  him,  and  became  so  giddy 
that  he  was  forced  to  grasp  a  chair  for  sup- 
port. Rose  remained  seated,  now  and  then 
uttering  a  sob  under  the  handkerchief 
which  hid  her  face,  utterly  miserable. 

"I  will  not  believe  it!"  gasped  Leo,  at 
length.  He  was  very  pale  and  trembled 
violently. 

The  sound  of  a  footstep  attracted  his 
notice,  and,  turning,  he  saw  Olivet  Choate 
entering  the  room.  "Ah,  Mr.  Choate,"  he 
cried,  advancing  to  meet  the  new-comer, 
with  extended  hand,  "you  are  my  friend; 
tell  me,  she  is  unwell,  it  is  untrue  ! " 

Oliver  Choate  ignored  Leo's  proffered 
hand  and  crossed  the  room  to  where  Eose 
sat,  "  I  do  not  know  what  you  refer  to,  sir," 
he  said  coldly  ;  "  but  my  wife  is  as  well  as 


114  ^1  MORAL  BLOT. 

can  be  expected  after  her  late  bereave- 
ment.'' 

"Your  wife'  Oh,  my  God,  my  God!" 
exclaimed  Leo,  sinking  into  a  chair  and  cov- 
ering his  face.  For  several  moments  perfect 
silence  reigned,  and  the  ticking  of  the  clock 
on  the  mantle,  only,  was.  heard. 

"Kose  dear,"  said  Choate,  at  last,  "this 
is  too  much  for  you.  Leave  us  here,  alone," 
and  he  laid  his  hand  tenderly  upon  her 
shoulder. 

She  shook  him  off  roughly,  saying  with 
fierce  bitterness,  ' '  do  not  touch  me  !  " 

Leo  rose.  ''Do  not,"  he  said  ironically, 
while  his  voice  trembled  strangely,  "  do  not 
let  me  be  the  cause  of  a  quarrel,  especially 
during  the  delightful  days  of  your  honey- 
moon. I  will  go." 

"Stay,  sir,"  said  Choate  as  Leo  turned  to 
leave  the  room,  "  this  will  probably  be  our 
last  meeting,  and  there  are  some  things 
which  you  may  wish  explained." 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  115 

' '  I  ask  no  explanation.  It  is  enough  for 
me  that  the  lady  has  preferred  your  riper 
years  and  maturer  charms  to  my  youth  and 
inexperience,"  replied  Leo,  sarcastically. 

"  Rose,  will  you  leave  us  ?  "  said  Choate. 

"No  !"  she  answered  decidedly. 

"  As  you  please,"  he  returned  with  a  shrug 
of  his  shoulders. 

"  Leo,"  cried  Rose,  suddenly  with  passion- 
ate earnestness,  ' '  at  my  mother's  death-bed 
I  married  this  man  because  she  bade  me, 
and  I  did  not  think  of  myself  or  of — of  any 
one.  It  was  not  love — oh,  no — you  cannot 
think  that — oh,  I  am  so  miserable  !  " 

"And  I,"  said  Choate,  determined  to 
bring  matters  to  an  end"  now,  once  and 
for  all,  "  knowing  exactly  how  matters  stood, 
allowed  it  to  go  on — something  I  would 
never  have  done  had  I  not  seen  a  certain 
midnight  supper  in  New  York  where  you 
and  your  chosen  friend,  Ingraham,  regaled  a 
choice  assembly  of  loose  women.  I  saw  one 


116  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

of  them  in  your  arms,  sir,  and  that  on  the 
very  day  you  had  left  Rose,  with  protesta- 
tions of  love.  The  sight  convinced  me  that 
you  were  not  fit  a  husband  for  her,  and  I 
married  her  to  save  her  from  you." 

"You  do  not  understand — "  began  Leo. 

"Pardon  me." 

"  By  the  almighty  God,"  he  cried,  despair- 
ingly, "  on  my  soul,  I  am  as  innocent  as  she 
is!" 

Rose  sobbed  bitterly. 

"It  is  too  late  to  protest  now,"  said 
Choate,  "  if  an  error  has  been  made,  it  must 
be  abided  by.  I  had  the  evidence  of  my 
eyes  and  ears." 

"Believe  me  *or  not,  as  you  will,"  said 
Leo,  bitterly,  "  it  matters  little  now." 

"  I  believe  you,"  cried  Rose  hysterically, 
"  I  believe  you,  Leo." 

"  It  is  a  pity  you  allowed  your  belief  to 
be  shaken  at  all,"  he  returned  contemptuous- 
ly. "Do  you  know  what  it  is  you  have 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  117 

done  ?  You  were  to  me  the  embodiment  of 
everything  that  is  true,  trusting,  noble — my 
ideal ;  but  you  have  shattered  that  bright 
dream  and  left  me  alone  in  darkness,  a  poor 
wreck,  stranded  upon  a  desert,  with  no  one 
to  turn  to,  no  one  to  trust.  You  thrust  me 
forth  from  the  home-life  which  you  hold  up 
to  me  as  an  example  to  go — to  the  Devil,  per- 
haps." 

Rose  did  not  answer,  but  her  sobs  re- 
doubled. 

"All  this  is  useless,  Mr.  Ormsby,"  said 
Choate,  "useless  and  cruel.  Don't  you  see 
how  agitated  Rose  is  ?  Have  you  no 
thought  for  any  one  besides  yourself  ? " 

"I  am  going,  sir,"  said  Leo,  with  a  scorn- 
ful laugh,  "good-bye,  Mrs.  Choate.  I  wish 
you  much  happiness,"  and  he  left  the 
room. 

Choate  turned  to  his  wife,  who  had  risen 
to  her  feet,  and  was  moving  unsteadily 
across  the  room.  He  approached  to  support 


118  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

her,  and  the  sound  of  the  closing  door  that 
shut  Leo  from  the  house  reached  his  ears. 

Rose  heard  it  too,  and  turned  a  wild, 
furious  look  upon  him  as  she  hissed,  "you 
tricked  me,  by  my  mother's  death-bed,  you 
tricked  me  into  becoming  your  wife,  and  you 
knew  I  loved  him  all  the  time — you  devil ! " 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  119 


CHAPTER  VII. 

WANDERINGS. 

• 
"  Such  groans  of  roaring  wind  and  rain,  I  never 

Remember  to  have  heard 

'. The  tempest  in  my  mind 

Doth  from  my  senses  take  all  feeling  else, 
Save  what  beats  there." 

SHAKSPERE  (King  Lear). 

FOR  the  moment  Leo  did  not  realize  the 
full  significance  of  the  destruction  of  his 
fondest  hopes.  Anger  and  contempt  made 
the  pain  less  keen,  but  when  the  door  closed 
after  him,  shutting  him  out  into  the  dark- 
ness and  storm,  a  feeling  of  despairing  help- 
lessness took  possession  of  him.  He  was 
cast  forth  from  what  he  had  always  con- 
sidered his  home  :  she  whom  he  had  firmly 
believed  in  had  destroyed  his  faith  ;  his  love 


120  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

was  hopeless;  its  object  a  shattered  idol,  for- 
ever beyond  his  reach.  Where  was  he  to  go, 
to  whom  should  he  turn  for  sympathy  and 
comfort  ?  If  Rose  was  false, — Rose,  in  whom 
he  had  so  faithfully,  so  unreservedly  be- 
lieved, could  he  trust  any  one  ? 

Hardly  knowing  what  he  did  he  tramped 
on  through  the  rain,  heedless  of  the  mud  in 
his  path  or  where  he  was  going.  He  saw  a 
brilliantly-lighted  liquor  saloon  and  paused 
irresolutely  to  look  in  at  the  croVd  of  men 
who  were  drinking,  smoking,  and  laughing 
before  the  bar.  He  was  tempted  to  enter, 
but  while  he  hesitated  an  intoxicated  man 
stumbled  forth,  and  he  withdrew  in  disgust. 
"  It  has  not  come  to  that  yet,"  he  muttered 
as  he  resumed  his  walk.  At  length  he 
began  to  feel  tired  and  paused  to  look  about 
him.  He  was  upon  the  Cambridge  Street 
drawbridge  ;  how  he  came  there  he  had  no 
idea.  The  rain  was  drizzling  lazily,  with  a 
penetrating  dampness,  and  a  disagreeable 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  121 

chill  rose  from  the  waters  of  the  river.  Up 
and  down  the  streets  stretched  long  lines  of 
lights  that  were  mirrored  in  the  puddles  and 
reflected  with  a  blurred  faintness  by  the  wet 
pavements.  The  gas-jets  burned  with  a 
sickly  yellow  flame,  made  more  ghastly  by 
the  white,  glaring  electric  lights.  The 
waters  of  the  river,  on  either  hand,  were 
masses  of  liquid  blackness  relieved  by  flash- 
ing, zigzagging  gleams,  reflected  from  the 
lights  on  the  opposite  shores.  Leo  peered 
into  the  black  waters  but  could  see  nothing. 
"  Black  as  death  ! "  he  muttered.  He  heard 
the  lapping  of  the  waves,  and  there  seemed 
to  be  a  comforting  message  in  the  sound. 
He  peered  guiltily  about  to  see  if  he  was 
observed,  and  heard  the  click  of  horses'  shoes 
upon  the  pavement  and  the  tinkling  of  a 
bell  as  a  horse-car  approached.  The  clink- 
ing changed  to  a  thumping  sound  as  the 
horses  stepped  upon  the  bridge  and  Leo  turned 
slowly  away  from  the  water.  His  teeth 


122  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

were  chattering  and  he  instinctively  drew 
his  coat  tighter  about  him,  muttering  :  "  It's 
cold."  Then,  moved  by  a  sudden  impulse, 
he  sprang  upon  the  horse-car  and  rode  into 
town. 

At  Bowdoin  Square  he  left  the  car  and 
resumed  his  weary  tramp  ;  walking  towards 
the  heart  of  the  city.  A  ragged  little  urchin 
followed  him  whining,  "  Please  buy  a 
paper,  mister  !  " 

Leo  stopped  and  looked  sharply  at  the  lad. 
"Why  are  you  not  at  home?"  he  asked 
gruffly,  but  not  unkindly. 

"I'm  stuck  on  de  papers,"  answered  th'e 
lad,  holding  out  a  bundle  of  wet  papers  to 
prove  his  assertion. 

"And  if  you  sell  them  you'll  go  home?" 

"You  bet  !" 

"  Here,  give  them  to  me,"  and  Leo  tossed 
the  papers  into  the  gutter  and  gave  the  boy 
a  dollar.  "Now  go  home,"  and  without 
waiting  for  the  urchin's  thanks  he  walked 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  123 

on.  ' '  Even  that  shivering,  poverty-stricken, 
little  brat  has  a  home,"  he  thought  bitterly, 
"  I  am  more  miserable  than  he. "  He  turned 
to  look  back  at  the  boy  and  saw  he  had 
gathered  up  the  papers  and  was  offering  them 
to  another  passer.  He  laughed  harshly. 
He  passed  along  Tremont  Row  to  Tremont 
Street,  and  noticed  that  they  were  usually 
crowded.  The  performance  was  over  and 
the  audience  from  the  Museum  was  dispers- 
ing. He  crossed  the  street  to  the  new  door 
of  the  theatre,  and  watched  the  people  as 
they  emerged.  "What  merry,  bright 
faces,  all  happy  and — ''  he  thought  with  a 
sudden  fury,  ''all  false,  false  as  Hell.  Their 
smiles  are  lies,  and  I — I  will  lie  too."  He 
uttered  a  -strange  hoarse  laugh  that  caused 
a  timid  little  woman  who  was  passing,  to 
start  and  gaze  into  his  face  in  alarm.  The 
flushed  features  and  wild  eyes  of  the  mud- 
bespattered  man  did  not  reassure  her,  and 
she  clung  closer  to  the  arm  of  her  escort. 


1-24  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

A  lady  came  from  the  theatre  alone,  and 
hurried  to  a  carriage  that  was  evidently 
awaiting  her.  As  she  entered  the  vehicle 
she  glanced  backward,  and  then,  with  a  start 
of  surprise,  cried,  ' '  Leo  !  " 

He  started  at  the  sound  of  his  name  and 
instinctively  touched  his  hat.  Advancing 
to  see  who  it  was  that  called,  he  grasped  her 
proffered  hand  and  cried,  "You,  Tiger 
Lily!" 

"Miss  Larry,"  she  corrected  him,  smil- 
ingly. 

"  I  believe  you  are  my  friend  ;  you  said 
you  were,"  he  observed  apathetically. 

"  Why,  Leo,  what  ails  you  ?  You  are 
soaking  wet  ;  you  look  so  strangely  ;  has 
anything  happened  ?  Jump  into '  the  car- 
riage and  tell  me  all  about  it." 

Wearily  Leo  entered  the  carriage  and  sank 
down  upon  the  cushioned  seat  with  a  sigh. 

"  Where  to,  miss  ? "  asked  the  driver. 

"Home,  drive  slowly." 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  125 

"Now,  Leo,"  she  said,  as  the  carriage 
moved  along,  ' '  tell  me  all  about  it. " 

"  There  is  nothing  to  tell,"  he  answered. 
"Rose  is  married,  that  is  all,"  and  he 
laughed. 

"Poor  boy,  poor  boy!"  she  murmured 
sympathetically.  "  I  can  understand  now." 

"  Never  mind  me,"  he  said,  attempting  to 
rally  himself.  "  How  came  you  in  Boston 
to-night?" 

"  We  are  laying  over  here  until  the  first 
of  the  week,  when  we  start  on  the  circuit. 
You  are  wet  through,  surely  you  ought  to 
take  care  of  yourself." 

"I  don't  care  what  becomes  of  me  now," 
he  cried  wildly.  "  My  life  is  a  wreck.  Do 
you  know,  I  came  near  making  an  end  of  it 
all,  to-night." 

"Leo!" 

"Yes,  in  my  place  some  men  would  have 
killed  themselves,  but  I — I  did  more  ;  I 
lived." 


1-26  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

"  Poor  boy,  time  will  cure  you,  but  it  is 
hard.  She  must  be  heartless." 

"I  don't  know  ;  she's  false,  though.  I 
trusted  her  against  the  world,  but  it  seems 
that  she  could  not  trust  me  against  the  first 
calumny  that  arose  in  my  absence,  she  did 
not  even  try  to  hear  my  vindication.  Well,  I 
shall  never  believe  again  in  friendship,  in 
honesty,  in — in  love." 

The  carriage  stopped.  "  Here  I  am,"  said 
Tiger  Lily,  preparing  to  alight.  "What  is 
your  address  ?  I  will  tell  the  driver  to  take 
you  home." 

Leo  sprang  from  the  carriage.  "  Home  ! " 
he  echoed,  "  I  have  none.  I  lived  in  the 
house  with — her  ;  but  now — well,  I  can  take 
care  of  myself." 

"  Why,  where  are  you  going  ?  what  will 
you  do  ? " 

"  I  must  write  something  for  the  paper  to- 
night. I'll  find  some  place  to  write  in.  I 
can't  sleep." 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  127 

"  Look  here,  Leo,  I'm  not  going  to  allow 
you  to  wander  about  on  a  night  like  this  in 
the  state  of  mind  you  are  in  ;  it  would  be  the 
death  of  you.  Come  into  my  parlor  and 
write  if  you  will,  and  perhaps  Mrs.  West  can 
find  a  room  for  you." 

"  Well,"  said  Leo,  apathetically. 

She  opened  the  door  with  a  latch-key  and 
he  followed  her  in.  The  hackman  chuckled 
maliciously  as  they  disappeared,  and,  whip- 
ping up  his  horses,  drove  from  the  street. 

The  next  day  Lester  Ingraham  called  at  a 
quiet  boarding-house  on  Bulfinch  Street,  in 
answer  to  an  urgent  note,  and  was  met  by 
Tiger  Lily. 

"You  are  his  friend,"  she  said,  "  and  I  did 
not  know  who  else  to  send  for.  Just  look  at 
him,  poor  boy. " 

Leo  was  lying  upon  a  lounge  in  her  private 
parlor,  asleep.  His  face  was  flushed  and  his 
garments  disordered.  Every  now  and  then 


128  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

he  would  move  uneasily  and  mutter  some 
incoherent  words. 

"How  long  has  he  been  so  ?  "  asked  Less. 

She  hesitated,  and  blushed  hotly.  "He — 
he  came  here  last  night  and  wrote  for  his 
paper.  He  had  been  wandering  about  the 
streets  and  was  wet  through.  I  left  him 
after  a  while,  and  when  I  came  back  he  was 
sleeping  there.  I  could  not  disturb  him,  and 
so  I — I  allowed  him  to  remain.  He  slept 
there  all  night  in  his  damp  clothes,  and  this 
morning  I  found  him  this  way." 

"  We  must  remove  him,  Tiger  Lily,"  said 
Less,  gravely. 

"Not  for  me,  Less.  If  he  is  going  to  be 
ill  he  shall  stay,  and  I  will  do  what  I  can  for 
him.  Oh,  they  have  acted  shamefully  to 
him  !  That  woman,  who  would  think  it  a 
disgrace  to  associate  with  me,  has  treated 
him  as  I  would  not  treat  a  dog,"  she  said, 
passionately. 

((  Rose  Maynard  ?    Yes,  I  have  heard  ;  it's 


A  MORAL  SLOT.  129 

a  very  strange  affair.     We  must  have  a  doc- 
tor for  him. " 

"  Will  you  call  one,  please  ? " 

"  Yes,  I'll  get  Farnsworth,  and  I'll  take  his 
papers  down  to  the  Hermes  office.  A  parable, 
I  suppose." 

"He  said  so.  Oh,  Less,"  she  cried,  with 
uncontrollable  anxiety,  "hurry  for  the  doc- 
tor." 

"  Tiger  Lily,"  said  Less,  gravely,  "has  our 
Scribe  become  so  much  to  you  ? " 

"Yes,  Less.     Now  go  !" 

• 

In  the  next  number  of  Hermes  this  strange 
contribution  from  The  Scribe  appeared  : 

A  FRAGMENT. 

"My  uneasiness  had  disappeared,  and  now  all 
about  me  seemed  vagueness,  and  in  my  mind,  in- 
difference. Another  had  sinned,  and  Justice,  the 
blind  goddess,  seized  upon  me  to  expiate  the  crime. 

The  hour  of  my  doom  was  close  at  hand,  yet  I 
9 


130  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

recked  little.  They  came,  and  I  was  led  to  the 
verge  of  the  hoary  verdure-crowned  cliff,  rising 
sheer  from  the  lake  in  the  valley.  About  me  were 
stern  unpitying  faces,  but  I  sought  no  pity.  I 
thought  not  of  what  was  to  come,  but  only  of  the 
beauty  of  nature  as  it  lay  in  untrammeled  grandeur 
at  my  feet.  Gentle  breezes  fanned  my  cheek  and 
whispered  of  courage,  but  I  heeded  not,  I  feared 
not.  The  setting  sun  cast  long  rays  from  the 
topmost  peak  of  the  distant  mountains,  over  the 
valley,  silvering  the  waters  of  the  lake  with  myr- 
iads of  sparkles,  that  grew  paler  and  paler  as 
the  great  orb  slowly  sank  behind  the  snow-clad 
summits.  Then,  through  the  transparent  waters, 
methought  I  saw  the  gleaming  domes  and  spires 
of  marble  palaces,  while  faint  sweet  strains  of 
music — music  of  an  unearthly  sweetness — fell 
upon  my  ears,  but  behind  me  boomed  the  harsh 
clang  of  the  great  bell,  sounding  my  knell  and 
drowning  the  strains. 

"  I  was  hurled  from  the  dizzy  height  of  the 
cliff  into  the  lake  below.  Down,  down,  down  I 
fell,  the  air  rushing  madly  by  me  and  the  awful 
whirl  making  my  senses  reel.  I  heard  them 
shout  in  triumph  as  I  fell,  they  who  had  called 
themselves  my  friends,  and  I  was  glad  that  I 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  131 

was  leaving  forever  their  world,  where  deceit  is 
king.  Then  I  reached  the  water  and  the  deli- 
cious coolness  closed  over  me.  I  yielded  to  the 
pleasure  of  the  change  and  sank,  without  a  strug- 
gle. The  last  sun  ray  shot  through  the  water 
beside  me,  lighting  up  my  surroundings.  I 
thought  I  saw  shadowy  forms,  of  beautiful  mer- 
maidens  floating  towards  me,  with  outstretched 
arms  and  kindly,  smiling  faces.  I  longed  for 
friendship ;  all  I  had  left  behind  me  were  false  ; 
could  these  be  true  ?  I  would  have  trusted  them, 
I  think,  but  ere  they  reached  my  side  my  senses 
fled." 


PART  II. 

THE  SPOT  UPON  THE  TIGER  LILY. 

"  My  good  stars  that  were  my  former  guides 
Have  empty  left  their  orbs  and  shot  their  fires 
Into  the  abysm  of  Hell." 

SHAKSPEBE  (Antony  and  Cleopatra). 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  135 


CHAPTER  I. 

BOHEMIA. 

"THE  land  of  staunch  comradeship,  of  kindly  sympathy 

where  the  primitive    virtues   have   fled  for    refuge 

from  the  shams  of  society  and  where  Mrs.  Grundy  holds  no 

sway." 

HABBT  HAMILTON. 

MONTHS  passed  and  the  sweet  softness  of 
spring  came  again.  It  was  at  first  rumored 
that  Leo  had  suddenly  disappeared  and  then, 
that  he  was  ill.  As  he  became  convalescent 
and  was  seen,  now  and  then,  walking  feebly 
about  the  quieter  streets,  people  whispered, 
with  knowing  nods  and  smiles,  that  he  had 
been  lying  at  a  boarding  house  where  a 
noted  burlesque  actress,  who  had  nursed  him 
devotedly  through  his  illness,  and  who  com- 
pelled her  manager  to  find  a  substitute  for 
her  during  that  time,  made  her  home.  No 


136  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

pains  were  taken  to  deny  the  story,  and  it 
was  forgotten  as  soon  as  a  new  scandal 
arose.  Every  man  of  prominence,  no  mat- 
ter how  petty  his  prominence  may  be,  will 
surely  have  some  stories  circulated  about 
him  relating  to  the  low  standard  of  his  mor- 
als, and  these  stories  are  so  often  without 
foundation  that  it  is  difficult  to  distinguish 
the  real  sinners.  Appreciating  this  fact  Leo 
did  not  commit  himself.  Only  a  few  of  his 
nearest  friends  knew  just  how  matters  stood 
with  him.  When  his  strength  was  suffi- 
ciently restored  he  left  Boston  and  was  lost 
sight  of  by  all  in  the  city  except  Less,  who 
knew  he  was  following  Durrell's  company  as 
a  sort  of  hanger-on  and  who  joined  him 
whenever  he  could  manufacture  an  excuse 
for  so  doing.  Leo's  studio  remained  closed 
all  winter  and  the  only  indication  that  his 
acquaintances  had  of  his  being  alive  was 
the  regular  appearance  of  his  parables  in 
Hermes. 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  137 

And  all  this  time  Kose  lived  in  a  mag- 
nificent home,  provided  with  every  comfort 
and  luxury  that  money  could  procure.  By 
every  means  in  his  power,  Oliver  Choate 
strove  to  make  her  happy,  prompted  to  do  so 
more  because  of  the  reproaches  of  his  guilty 
conscience  than  anything  else,  but  all  his 
efforts  were  vain.  She  was  like  a  wild  bird, 
restlessly  beating  its  wings  against  the  bars 
of  a  gilded  cage,  vainly  striving  for  the  free- 
dom it  could  not  gain,  and  heedless  of  the 
glitter  which  surrounded  it. 

They  never  spoke  of  Leo,  avoiding  the  sub- 
ject by  a  sort  of  tacit  understanding ; 
Choate,  because  he  feared  the  effect  of  men- 
tioning her  unforgotten  lover  to  his  wife, 
and  Rose,  because  she  did  not  wish  to  rouse 
her  husband  into  speaking  ill  of  one  who 
was  enshrined  in  her  heart  by  a  love 
crushed,  but  still  alive.  She  did  not  credit 
the  accusation  Choate  had  made  against  Leo, 
and  felt  an  antagonism  against  her  husband 


138  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

that  she  did  not  scruple  to  let  him  see.  That  he 
could  not  hope  for  her  love,  Choate  had  known 
from  the  first,  but  he  Had  felt  sure  of  retaining 
her  respect.  Even  that  he  was  not  destined 
to  have.  Coldness  and  ofttimes  .sneers  were 
the  only  thanks  he  received  for  his  Atten- 
tions, and  in  many  ways  she  made  it  obvious 
to  him  that  he  was  distasteful  to  her,  that 
she  preferred  other  companionship  to  his, 
until,  at  length,  he  went  his  way  and  she 
hers,  hardly  seeing  each  other  from  one 
week  to  another,  and  then  meeting  only 
long  enough  to  exchange  a  cold  greeting. 
This  pleased  Rose,  because  it  left  her  free 
to  brood  over  her  troubles  and  her  fancied 
wrongs.  As  for  Choate,  he  cared  not — his 
love  had  always  been,  at  best,  but  the  piti- 
ful, disgusting  passion  of  an  almost  decrepit 
man,  and  it  had  died  forever,  before  Rose 
was  his,  killed  by  the  pangs  of  conscience  that 
tormented  him  ceaselessly  from  the  moment 
of  Mrs.  Maynard's  death.  He  felt  himself  a 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  139 

murderer  :  do  what  he  might,  the  white  face 
of  the  dead  woman,  that  ghastly  nuptial 
scene,  haunted  him  always.  His  words  had 
killed  her,  she  died  from  his  lie,  and  she  died 
while  he  wae  still  acting  a  lie  to  her.  The 
realization  of  this  fact  was  slowly  wearing 
away  his  very  life.  He  was  glad  of  his  es- 
trangement from  Rose,  since  the  sight  of  her 
called  up  visions  of  the  dead  ;  she  was  the 
fruit  for  which  he  had  bartered  his  all,  only 
to  find  bitterness  where  he  sought  luscious 
ripeness.  Daily  he  seemed  to  grow  more 
feeble,  and  oftener  and  oftener  he  was  dis- 
turbed by  visions  of  the  dead  that  woke  him 
from  his  troubled  sleep  to  torment  him. 
"  Murderer  ! "  the  pale  lips  seemed  to  whisper, 
and  he  did  not  dare  to  pray ;  he  knew  too 
well  that  a  fellow-being  had  died  before  her 
time  because  of  his  lust. 

Rose  eagerly  devoured  the  Scribe's  corner 
in  Hermes  every  week  and  took  advantage 
of  every  means  to  learn  any  news,  however 


140  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

meagre,  of  Leo.  The  stories  that  were  cir- 
culated reached  her  ears  hut  did  not  serve  to 
diminish  her  ever-increasing  infatuation. 
She  heard  nothing  direct  from  him  nor  did 
she  know  where  he  was.  Once  she  met  Less 
upon  the  street,  and  he  bowed  distantly.  She 
was  tempted  to  stop  him  and  ask  for  news 
of  Leo,  but  pride  made  her  hesitate,  and 
before  she  decided  to  speak  he  was  gone. 
When  she  reached  home  she  was  glad  that 
she  had  not  spoken,  but  the  incident  so  affect- 
ed her  that  she  shut  herself  into  her  room, 
and  wept.  Several  times  thereafter  she 
thought  of  applying  to  Less  for  news  of  Leo, 
but  always  controlled  the  desire.  Thus  the 
time  passed  in  the  Choate  household  with 
both  master  and  mistress  miserably  un- 
happy. 


One  day  Less  passed  the  familiar  door  in 
the  long  hall  of  "Bohemia,"  that  delightful 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  141 

building  under  the  roof  of  which  are  gather- 
ed the  j  oiliest  crowd  of  good  fellows  one  can 
well  think  of ;  nearly  all  artists,  their 
studios  ranged  side  by  side  ;  Less  passed 
the  familiar  door  upon  which  was  painted, 
"L.  Ormsby,  81,"  and  noticed  •  it  was 
open.  Uttering  a  shout  of  glad  surprise 
he  rushed  in,  without  pausing  to  knock, 
and  was  warmly  greeted  by  Leo  and  Dur- 
rell, 

"Well,  well,"  he  cried,  gazing  from  one 
to  the  other  with  unfeigned  delight,  "  it 
does  a  fellow's  heart  good  to  see  you  again. 
Where  did  you  spring  from  ? " 

"  Seek  not  to  know  too  much,"  answered 
Leo  smilingly,  "  let  it  suffice  that  we  have 
come.  How  are  you  ? " 

"I'm  salubrious,  but  you're  not  looking 
well,  Leo." 

"Oh,  I'm  all  right.  It's  my  hair  I  sup- 
pose that  changes  me.  That  d d  fever 

last  winter  left  me  a  goodly  number  of  gray 


142  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

hairs  as  a  remembrancer,"  and  he  coughed 
dryly. 

"The  truth  of  it  all  is,"  said  Durrell, 
"  that  Leo  won't  take  care  of  himself.  We 
cannot  influence  him  at  all ;  he  simply  goes 
it,  all  the  time." 

"That  won't  do,  Leo —      '  began  Less. 

"  Oh,  dry  up,"  said  the  object  of  their 
sympathy,  impatiently,  ' '  I'm  all  right.  Sit 
down  if  you  can  find  a  clean  spot ;  such  a 
dust  I  never  saw.  Say,  Less,  I've  finished 
Diana." 

"  So  I  heard.  Exhibited  in  New  York. 
Who  sat  for  it?" 

"Who do  you  suppose  ? "  laughed  Durrell. 

"Larry,  of  course,"  said  Leo,  "I  had  a 
good  offer  for  it  from  the  Hoffman  House 
people  but  I  won't  sell  my  picture  to  a  bar- 
room art-gallery,  especially  one  in  which  she 
figures.  I  imagine  they  want  it  because  the 
subject  shows  half  nude  women  ;  but  as  for 
hanging  my  work  up  as  that  Bogoreau  is 


A  MORAL  SLOT.  143 

hung,  for  half  drunken  men  to  leer  and  gloat 
over —  -  Bah  !  You  both  know  what  Larry 
and  I  are  to  each  other,  but  I  want  it  under- 
stood that  I  respect  her  above  any  other 
woman  alive  to-day,  and  that's  why  I  refused 
the  biggest  offer  I  ever  had  for  a  work  of 
mine,  and  I'm  not  sorry  for  it." 

"  I  can  appreciate  your  motives,  Leo,  "said 
Less,  "  but  you  go  a  bit  farther  than  I 
would." 

"  I  suppose  you  think  me  an  odd  stick," 
replied  Leo,  "  and  sometimes  I  am  unable  to 
understand  myself.  There  is  a  difference  in 
my  regard  for  Larry,  I  fear,  from  what  I 
used  to  feel  for  others.  I  remember  how 
uncomfortable  I  used  to  feel  when  I  found 
myself  in  company  with  one  of  those  men 
who  are  given  to  making  questionable  re- 
marks and  telling  risque  stories  before  ladies. 
There  is  no  resenting  the  remarks  of  such 
fellows,  they  are  too  guarded  for  that.  I  was 
inexperienced  then,"  he  continued,  with  a 


144  A  MORAL  SLOT. 

hard  laugh,  ' '  and  thought  of  my  lady  friends 
with  a  sort  of  reverence  and  such  remarks 
seemed  to  me  as  blasphemy  does  to  a  priest. 
Perhaps  the  purity  of  woman  was  a  part  of 
my  religion,  and  evidence  that  she  has  vulgar 
traits  in  common  with  man  hurt  me  because 
it  tended  to  destroy  the  ideal  I  had  formed 
of  that  which  I  have  since  learned  does  not 
exist — a  perfect  woman." 

11  No,"  said  Less  philosophically.  "  A  fel- 
low should  never  marry,  because  if  he  gets 
a  homely  girl,  she  will  be  too  disagreeable  an 
object  for  him  to  gaze  upon  day  after  day, 
and  if  she's  handsome  she'll  be  too  agreeable 
an  object  for  other  fellows  to  gaze  upon. 
Either  way  is  wrong  ;  best  to  remain  a  jolly 
bachelor,  like  me." 

"  There  is  such  a  thing  as  drawing  a 
prize." 

"  Why  not  trust  to  Providence  and  run 
your  chances  ? "  laughingly  suggested  Dur- 
rell. 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  145 

"  Providence,  eh  ?  Say,  Durrell,  are  you 
religious  ? " 

"  I  suppose  so." 

"  That's  a  pretty  weak  answer.  I'm  not. 
You  just  take  your  prayer-book  in  one  hand 
and  your  pocket-book  in  the  other  and  see 
which  will  go  farthest  in  this  world." 

"  How  about  the  next  ?  "  suggested   Less. 

"  Let  us  have  less  of  the  threat  of  Hell  in 
the  hereafter  and  a  little  more  of  it  here." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Hell  is  the  terror  that  holds  in  check  the 
evil  tendencies  of  man.  Let  the  laws  of  our 
land  be  annulled  for  a  day,  can  you  imagine 
what  excesses  would  result  ?  That's  what  I 
mean  ;  but  dropping  religion,  what  brings 
you  back  ? " 

"  King  Robert  of  Sicily,"  replied  Leo,  with 
a  dramatic  wave  of  his  arm. 

"  Oh,  get  out !     Be  serious." 

"  I  am.     My  play  is  to  be  produced  at  the 

Boston,  in  a  fortnight." 
10 


140  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

' '  You  don't  say  so  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  do." 

"  It's  a  great  piece,"  said  Durrell,"and 
ought  to  go,  but  wait  until  you  see  the  new 
one  he  is  doing  for  me. " 

11  What's  the  subject  ?  " 

"  The  Diver,"  said  Leo  good-naturedly, 
"  after  Schiller — a  long  way." 

"  You'll  hardly  recognize  King  Robert 
now,"  said  Durrell,  "  since  it  has  been  re- 
written." 

"Tiger  Lily  takes  the  leading  part  of 
course  ? " 

"Of  course,  and  she'll  make  a  queenly 
king." 

Leo  began  laughing,  but  was  suddenly  at- 
tacked with  a  severe  coughing  spell.  Less 
regarded  his  friend  anxiously.  "  Look  here, 
old  man,"  he  said  solicitously,  "you  ought 
to  do  something  for  that  cough." 

"  Oh,  Larry  is  dosing  me  all  the  time,"  he 
returned  lightly. 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  147 

"  But  you  should  see  a  doctor." 

"  Bah  !  I'm  not  sick,  and  I  won't  have 
a  lot  of  nasty  medicines  poured  into  me.  I'll 
be  all  right  in  a  little  while.  It's  only  an 
obstinate  cold." 

"  I  should  say  it  was  obstinate,"  said  Dur- 
rell,  "  he's  been  coughing  all  winter." 

v'  Oh,  drop  it,"  cried  Leo  impatiently. 

"  Where's  Tiger  Lily  ?"  asked  Less. 

"  She's  at  Mrs.  West's  with  Ada." 

"With  Ada?" 

"  Yes.  Guida  has  an  engagement  with 
another  company  and  we  are  looking  after 
the  child ;  in  fact,  between  ourselves,  we 
have  adopted  her." 

"  It's  a  good  job  for  the  chicken  that  she 
is  under  the  maternal  wing,  or  I  should  say 
petal,  of  Tiger  Lily.  Guida  is  not  a  model 
mother,"  observed  Durrell. 

"  What  can  you  expect  ? "  said  Less,  with 
a  shrug  of  his  shoulders.  "  A  lively  actress 
can't  make  a  good  mother." 


148  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

"  I  don't  know  about  that"  cried  Leo, 
"  look  at  Larry." 

''Is  she  a  mother?" 

"  To  Ada,  yes,  and  a  good  one." 

"  And  Leo  plays  papa  to  perfection," 
laughed  Durrell. 

"  By  Jove,  Less,  no  man  can  have  a  better 
friend  than  I  have  in  Larry,"  cried  Leo,  im- 
pulsively, "  I  know  the  world  sneers  and 
looks  upon  our  relations  as  wrong,  let  them 
if  they  will,  but  in  my  presence  no  one  shall 
speak  disparagingly  of  her.  She  has  every 
quality  that  goes  to  make  up  a  good  woman 
and  she  is  a  good  woman.  There  are  women 
to-day  who  have  lied,  cheated,  blasphemed, 
broken  their  parents'  hearts,  in  fact,  violated 
nearly  every  one  of  God's  commandments, 
yet  society  overlooks  their  shortcomings  and 
welcomes  them  with  open  arms.  There  are 
others,  like  my  poor  Larry,  who  are  innocent 
of  all  these  sins,  but  who  have  disregarded 
the  seventh  commandment,  and  these  are 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  149 

outcasts,  beyond  redemption.  To  them  the 
doors  of  society  are  forever  closed,  they  are 
beyond  hope  of  forgiveness.  No  matter  how 
bitter  their  tears,  no  matter  how  repentant 
they  are,  they  will  be  thrust  forth,  back  to 
their  sin,  to  sink  deeper  and  deeper  until  they 
are  utterly  lost,  when  a  kindly  word  and  a 
helping  hand  would  be  their  salvation.  They 
are  branded  with  a  mark  worse  than  a  felon's 
and  more  indelible,  by  those  who,  perhaps, 
are  far  greater  sinners.  And  this  is  Justice, 
this  is  Society.  Bah  !  " 

"Write  that  in  a  parable,"  said  Less, 
seriously. 

"Perhaps  I  will." 

"  What  did  you  write  last  week  ?  "  asked 
Durrell,  "  I  did  not  see  it." 

"  Here  it  is,"  said  Leo,  tossing  him  a  copy 
of  Hermes. 

"Keadit  aloud,  Durrell,"  cried  Less. 

And  Durrell  read  : — 


150  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

"  '  Once  there  lived  a  very  learned  man.  From 
dawn  till  midnight  he  pored  over  his  studies, 
tirelessly  seeking  to  increase  his  knowledge. 
';  Knowledge  is  power,"  he  said,  "  and  I  would 
know  all,  to  be  all-powerful."  Every  pleasure, 
even  social  intercourse  with  his  fellows  he  denied 
himself,  in  his  lust  for  learning.  "  I  know  more 
than  they,"  he  thought,  "  they  can  teach  me 
naught,  therefore  I'll  none  of  their  company." 
He  saw  a  beautiful  maiden  and  his  heart  beat 
faster  in  her  presence,  and  he  desired  her.  She 
smiled  upon  him  and  modestly  showed  her  pref- 
erence for  him,  but  just  then  happened  strange 
things  among  the  stars ;  and  while  he  studied  the 
heavenly  bodies  he  forgot  earth,  himself,  and  the 
maid,  and  she  passed  from  his  life.  Thus  in  lone- 
liness and  study,  casting  aside  all  the  joys  of  life 
did  he  pass  his  days  until  his  time  was  come  and 
he  died. 

" '  Before  the  great  judgment-seat  he  came  and 
the  recording  angel  asked  of  him,  "  Who  art 
thou  ?  " 

"  '  "  I  am  he  that  was  most  learned,"  he  made 
reply. 

" '  Then  was  judgment  passed  upon  him. 
"  Earth  was  made  for  man  and  filled  with  all  that 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  151 

is  best  for  his  good.  For  learning,  you  cast  aside 
everything,  held  yourself  above  your  fellow-men 
and  aspired  to  the  forbidden.  You  refused  the 
good  it  pleased  the  Lord  to  provide  for  you  on 
earth,  therefore  you  are  unfit  for  the  joys  of 
Heaven.  Go,  sit  without  and  take  such  joy  from 
thy  learning  as  it  will  yield.  Here  is  no  place 
for  thee.' " 

"Say,  Leo  what  made  you  strike  that 
religious  vein  ? " 

"  There's  very  little  religion  in  that,"  was 
the  reply.  "  There  are  any  number  of  as- 
pects to  look  at  the  question  touched  upon 
in  that  parable  form.  The  next  number  will 
give  another  point  of  view  of  the  same 
thing.  Here  are  the  proofs." 

"May  we  see  ?" 

"Certainly." 

Less  took  the  proof-sheets  and  read  aloud:— 

" '  A  child  lived  in  the  most  squalid  quarter  of 
a  densely  populated  city.  Ill-treatment,  misery, 
and  starvation  were  his  lot,  but  still  he  thrived. 


152  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

Ignorance  and  neglect  were  his  tutors,  and  when 
he  saw  the  splendor  of  the  rich,  he  said,  "  I  would 
fain  live  thus,"  nor  was  it  envy  that  prompted  the 
thought,  but  a  desire  for  the  good  things  nature 
provides  for  man.  And  as  he  grew  to  manhood 
the  desire  became  stronger  in  him,  but  strive  as 
he  would  to  rise,  his  ignorance  always  held  him 
back.  He  saw  a  fair  woman  and  he  desired  her 
for  his  own  with  a  pure  passion,  but  a  rich  man 
came  and  the  woman  laughed  and  followed  him. 
Then  he  grew  desperate  and  brooded.  Why 
should  he  live  always  in  misery  while  others  were 
happy  and  in  the  possession  of  plenty  ?  His  dis- 
content made  him  ill,  and  he  wandered  feebly 
about  the  streets  penniless,  and  hunger  attacked 
him,  so  he  stole,  but  the  officers  of  Justice  seized 
him  and  cast  him  into  prison,  and  there  he  died. 

" '  And  conscious  of  his  shortcomings  he  came 
before  the  great  Throne  of  God. 

" ' :'  Who  art  thou  ?  "  he  was  asked. 

"  < "  1  am  a  felon,"  he  replied,  and  fell  upon  his 
face. 

"'And  the  great  book  of  life  was  opened  to 
where  his  story  was  writ,  and  reading  it,  the  Al- 
mighty spake,  saying,  "  Lo !  this  man's  sin  hath 
been  atoned  by  the  woe  it  hath  worked  upon  his 


A  MORAL  SLOT.  153 

soul.  He  hath  not  had  his  share  of  what  was 
created  for  man's  enjoyment,  therefore  shall  he 
taste  the  joys  of  after-life.  Let  him  enter  the 
Kingdom  of  Heaven.' " 

"I  suppose  there's  no  religion  in  that 
either,  Leo,  eh  ? "  queried  Less,  maliciously. 

"Less,  perhaps,  than  you  think,"  was  the 
reply,  "outside  of  the  form.  You  know 
religion  is  a  subject  that  does  not  trouble 
me  much." 

"  I've  never  heard  your  religious  views," 
said  Durrell. 

"They  are  simple, "replied  Leo.  "'Love 
thy  neighbor  as  thyself,'  is  all  the  religion  I 
require.  I  find  it  hard  to  live  up  to  that 
precept  and  until  I  can  do  so  it  would  be 
nonsense  to  profess  anything  further." 

"But  you  believe  in  a  God?" 

"  No  one  can  tell  me  more  than  I  already 
know  and  that  is — nothing.  I  do  not  deny 
that  there  is  a  God.  I  do  not  know. 
What  I  do  know,  and  feel,  and  worship, 


154  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

is  the  loveliness  of  nature  ;  and,  if  there  is  a 
God,  in  enjoying  His  works  I  feel  that  I 
am  praising  Him,  and  that  I  am  doing  my 
duty  as  a  man." 

They  were  interrupted  by  a  rap  at  the 
door  and  a  newsboy  entered. 

"Saw  you  was  back,  Mr.  Ormsby,  an' 
thought  you  might  want  papers  again,  sir," 
he  said,  with  a  grin. 

"  All  right,  Tim, "  said  Leo,  "leave  them 
as  usual." 

"Thank'ee,  sir,"  said  the  boy,  laying  some 
papers  on  the  table  and  going  out. 

"Any  news  ?"  asked  Less,  lazily,  as  he 
lighted  a  cigarette. 

"Don't  see  anything,"  replied  Leo,  glan- 
cing rapidly  through  the  columns. 

"  No,"  added  Durrell,  who  had  picked  up 
one  of  the  papers,  "not  a  word  about  the 
company  either.  Hullo !  Leo,  isn't  this  a 
friend  of  yours  ?  I  think  I've  heard  you 
mention  the  name,  Oliver  Choate?" 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  155 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Leo,  in  a  strained 
tone. 

"Dead,"  laconically  replied  Durrell. 

Leo  snatched  the  paper  from  his  hands  and 
looked  for  himself.  Yes,  there  it  was  in 
black  and  white. 


"  Choate,  Oliver.  Age  63,  in  this  city, 
April  2 1st ;  funeral  Tuesday  at  1 1  A.  M.  from 
residence, Commonwealth  Avenue." 


Leo  tossed  the  paper  aside  thoughtfully 
and  sank  heavily  into  a  chair.  His  face 
was  very  pale,  and  Less  regarded  him  .anx- 
iously for  a  moment  but,  seeing  that  he  was 
quite  self-possessed,  he  turned  to  Durrell 
saying, 

"We'd  better  be  going  now,  Charlie." 

"Come  on  then.  See  you  later,  Leo,"  and 
the  two  men  went  out. 

"You  put  your  foot  into  it  that  time, 
Durrell,"  said  Less,  when  they  were  alone. 

"Well,   I  didn't  know,"  he  replied,    "I 


156  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

wouldn't  have  wounded  Leo  for  the  world. 
Who  the  devil's  Choate  ?" 

"  He's  the  old  duffer  who  married  Rose, 
Leo's  girl,  you  know." 

Durrell  gave  a  long  whistle.  "  And  she's 
a  widow  now,  rich  too,  I  suppose." 

"Yes." 

"  And  the  coast's  clear  for  Leo." 

"As  far  as  I  know.  There's  Tiger  Lily 
though." 

"  She  don't  count  ;  girls  of  that  kind  never 
do  in  such  cases.  Leo  '11  drop  her  I  sup- 
pose." 

"  I  suppose  so.  Poor  girl,  and  she's  so 
devoted  to  him." 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  157 


CHAPTER  II. 

KING  ROBERT  OF  SICILY. 

"  Lo,  where  the  stage — the  poor,  degraded  stage — 
Holds  its  warped  mirror  to  a  gaping  age." 

CHARLES  SPKAGUE. 

ACTIVE  preparations  were  in  progress  for 
the  production  of  Leo's  play.  The  dead  walls 
throughout  the  city  were  covered  with  glar- 
ing lithographs  and  little  skits  appeared  daily 
in  the  papers,  telling  an  expectant  public  of 
new  glories,  designed  by  the  lavish  manage- 
ment to  please  their  patrons.  Leo  had  been 
compelled  to  so  re-write  the  play,  that  it  bore 
but  little  resemblance  to  what  it  was  origi- 
nally intended  to  be.  An  Amazon  march,  a 
ballet  festival,  and  numerous  songs  and 
dances  had  been  introduced,  giving  scope 


158  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

for  glittering  spectacular  effects  but  necessi- 
tating a  merciless  cutting  and  maiming  of 
the  dialogue ;  and  even  such  parts  as  were 
left  intact,  the  players  distorted  whenever 
there  was  an  opportunity  of  introducing 
some  puerile  joke.  There  had  originally 
been  a  Gilbertian  quality  to  the  lines,  but 
the  changes  blunted  their  point.  Still,  Dur- 
rell  and  his  stage  manager  were  confident 
that  the  piece  would  make  an.  instantaneous 
success,  and  although  Leo  was  annoyed  at  the 
mutilation  of  his  work  he  permitted  it  in 
deference  to  the  experience  and  superior 
judgment  of  the  others.  Every  day  there 
were  rehearsals  at  which  Durrell,  his  stage- 
manager  and  Leo  in  turn,  stormed  and 
swore  at  the  stupidity  of  stage-hands  and 
chorus-girls.  It  was  an  uninterrupted  grind, 
drill,  drill,  drill,  until  an  idea  of  what  was  ex- 
pected of  them  began  to  pierce  their  density 
and  the  prospect  of  a  good  first  performance 
brightened.  Tiger  Lily  was  indefatigable  in 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  159 

her  efforts  to  assure  the  success  of  the  play, 
and  managed  to  instil  some  of  her  enthu- 
siasm into  the  other  members  of  the  cast. 
Little  Ada  was  her  especial  pupil,  and  was 
charming  as  a  cherub,  acting  and  singing 
with  an  intelligence  and  precision  remark- 
able in  a  child.  "  I  must  do  my  very  best," 
she  said,  "  'cause  this  is  Leo's  play." 

At  length  the  eventful  Monday  arrived. 
The  day  before  a  full-dress  rehearsal  had 
been  held,  and  all  that  day  the  weaker  mem- 
bers of  the  cast  were  drilled.  Leo  was  dressed 
at  an  early  hour  and,  after  a  hasty  bite  at 
Clark's,  turned  down  Mason  Street  to  the 
dingy  stage-entrance  of  the  theatre  and  be- 
stowing a  cigar  upon  Con,  the  doorkeeper,  as 
he  passed,  went  upon  the  stage.  It  was 
early  and  but  few  of  the  company  were  about. 
The  stage  manager  was  busy  giving  some 
final  directions  to  the  stage  carpenters,  and  in 
superintending  the  setting  of  the  scenery  for 
the  first  act ;  a  grand  cathedral  interior 


160  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

which  changed  to  the  palace  of  King  Eobert. 
The  gas-men  were  laying  hose  for  their  lights 
and  in  one  corner  were  testing  a  sort  of  a 
magic-lantern,  which  reflected  swiftly  moving 
clouds  upon  the  scene.  The  lights  were  very 
dim,  and  sound  of  hammers  now  and  again 
heard,  as  the  carpenters  fastened  some  piece 
of  scenery  into  place,  echoed  hollowly  through 
the  vast  barn-like  building.  The  curtain  was 
up  and  a  fluttering  of  ghostly  white  dra- 
peries was  visible  in  the  auditorium,  as  the 
attendants  removed  the  cloths  that  cov- 
ered the  gilding  and  draperies  in  the  house, 
and  protected  them  from  dust,  during  the 
day. 

"What's  the  time,  Mr.  Ormsby?"  asked 
the  stage  manager. 

"  Ten  minutes  past  seven." 

"  Say,"  he  shouted  to  someone  in  the  body 
of  the  house,  "what  time  do  you  open  the 
doors  here  ? " 

"Seven  fifteen." 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  101 

"  Time  to  light  up,"  he  said,  turning  to  the 
gas-man. 

"  All  right.     Hillo,  Bill— Bill ! " 

A  voice  from  above  replied,  "  Hullo  1 " 

"  Ring  down  the- curtain." 

The  gas-man  went  to  a  spot  at  the  right  of 
the  proscenium,  where  a  number  of  wheels 
projected  from  a  marble  slab  set  in  the  wall; 
he  turned  some  of  these  and  with  a  sudden 
flash,  the  lights  in  the  auditorium  burned 
up.  There  was  a  grating  sound  and  the 
green  curtain  descended  shutting  the  house 
from  sight. 

The  company  was  beginning  to  assemble, 
chattering  and  laughing  as  they  came  upon 
the  stage,  or  made  their  way  to  the  dressing- 
rooms.  Suddenly  there  was  a  loud  tramp- 
ling rush  heard  together  with  the  hum  of 
many  voices.  "  There  goes  the  gallery," 
said  a  stage  hand,  "the  doors  are  open." 

Leo  had  come  early,  thinking  he  might  be 
of  some  use,  but  found  nothing  to  do,  and 


162  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

stood  idly  looking  at  the  contrivances  about 
him,  so  simple,  and  yet,  to  the  uninitiated, 
apparently  complicated.  He  was  full  of  ex- 
citement but  outwardly  calm,  save  that  his 
face  was  flushed  and  his  cough  troubled  him 
unusually. 

11  Well,  Leo,  will  I  do  ?"  asked  a  pleasant 
voice  at  his  side,  and  turning,  he  beheld  a 
kingly  figure  clad  in  royal  purple  with  crown 
and  sceptre  complete.  The  king's  robe  was 
open,  however,  and  showed,  beneath,  the 
motley  garb  of  a  jester  with  the  cap  and 
bauble  thrust  into  the  belt  for  convenience. 

"  Charming,  Larry,"  he  replied  with  a 
smile.  "  Ah,  here's  Ada." 

"Hullo,  Leo,"  cried  the  child,  running  to 
him,  "I  haven't  seen  you  all  day.  Isn't  my 
costume  nice  ? " 

"Very  nice,  little  one." 

"  But,  Leo,  I  s'posed  angels  had  big  wings 
and  long  white  robes.  You  see  they've 
made  me  different."  • 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  163 

"  Well,  you're  a  cherub,  you  see,"  he  re- 
plied, "the  cherub  does  the  acting  in  this 
play  and  the  others  are  only  in  the  transfor- 
mation." . 

"  They're  only  supers  2 " 

"That's  all." 

"  And  I'm  an  actress  ?" 

"  And  a  charming  little  one,  at  that,"  as- 
sented Leo,  taking  the  child  in  his  arms. 

"Now  I  want  you  to  wish  me  luck  in  my 
new  part." 

"I  do." 

"And  Tiger  Lily?" 

"And  Tiger  Lily  too." 

"  And  we  both  wish  you  luck  in  your  new 
play,  don't  we,  Tiger  Lily  ? " 

"  Indeed  we  do,  Cherub,  and  if  it  depends 
upon  us — 

"  It'll  be  a  go,"  said  the  child,  finishing  the 
sentence. 

The  people  who  were  to  appear  in  the  play 
were  'flocking  upon  the  stage,  a  motley  as- 


A  MORAL  BLOT. 


semblageof  courtiers,  ladies,  soldiers,  sailors, 
priests,  nuns,  peasants  and  ballet-dancers, 
and  a  perfect  babel  of  subdued  voices  sounded 
through  the  place. 

"Say,  Leo,"  said  Ada,  with  an  air  of  pro- 
fessional concern,  "  How's  the  house?  " 

"  I  haven't  looked,  little  one." 

"  Let  me  peep,  will  you?"  she  whispered 
eagerly. 

Leo  led  the  child  to  the  side  of  the  pros- 
cenium where,  through  a  small  opening, 
the  front  of  the  theatre  was  visible. 

"0-o-o-o-h!"  cried  Ada,  as  she  looked 
through,  "It's  packed,  and  there's  Less  in 
the  box  ;  look,  Leo." 

Leo  obediently  applied  his  eye  to  the 
" peep-hole"  and  saw  a  vast,  indistinct  sea 
of  faces  filling  the  building  from  floor  to 
ceiling.  He  glanced  at  the  opposite  box 
and  there,  sure  enough,  sat  Less.  Mechan- 
ically he  nodded  and  smiled  at  his  friend, 
whereat  little  Ada  laughed  heartily,  and, 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  165 

joining  in  her  mirth,  he  stepped  aside  to 
allow  Tiger  Lily  to  look. 

The  sharp  burr  of  an  electric  bell  echoed 
through  the  theatre  and  a  call  for  the  orches- 
tra was  heard.  The  gas  engineer  turned  a 
few  of  the  many  stop-cocks  upon  the  wall 
by  the  prompter's  desk  and  the  lights  in  the 
front  of  the  house  flashed  out  in  full  brill- 
iancy. 

"There's  the  call!"  said  Tiger  Lily,  as 
she  fastened  King  Eobert's  robe,  hiding  the 
jester's  dress  beneath. 

The  first  strains  of  the  overture  became 
audible,  long,  low  chords,  swelling  into  an 
impressive  anthem,  making  the  call-boy's 
summons,  "All  on  for  the  first  act,"  inaudi- 
ble to  the  audience. 

"  Come  Ada,  we  must  go,"  said  Tiger 
Lily. 

"  Good  luck  go  with  you,"  said  Leo,  with  a 
smile. 

"Amen,    to   that,    dear,"    replied    Tiger 


166  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

Lily,  "  since  luck  to  me  to-night  is  luck  for 
you." 

Left  alone,  Leo  felt  nervous  for  the  first 
time.  His  heart  beat  rapidly  and  he  felt  a 
sense  of  suffocation.  Shaking  himself  im- 
patiently he  coughed  and  turned  to  examine 
the  stage.  Everything  was  in  readiness  for 
the  rising  of  the  curtain.  The  altar  of  the 
mimic  church  was  aglow  with  candles,  the. 
altar  boys  stood  in  their  places,  while  the 
stage  manager  and  his  assistants,  in  their 
shirt-sleeves — inharmonious  fellows — were 
lighting  incense  in  the  chalices.  The  con- 
gregation was  in  place,  but  as  yet  wore  any- 
thing but  a  devout  look  ;  and  over,  opposite, 
upon  a  raised  dais,  surrounded  by  sparsely 
clad  pages  whose  sex  was  very  apparent, 
sat  King  Eobert,  who,  as  Leo  glanced  that 
way,  smiled  and  nodded.  The  overture 
ended  with  a  crash  ;  there  was  an  expectant 
stir  in  the  audience  ;  the  stage  manager 
took  one  last  hurried  survey  of  his  work, 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  167 

cried,  "All  ready!"  and  stepped  out  of 
sight ;  the  gas-man  turned  on  his  stage- 
lights  and  darkened  the  front  of  the  house  ; 
the  company  took  their  positions ;  the 
prompter  signalled  the  musical  director ; 
the  music  began  ;  the  chorus  raised  their 
voices  in  a  solemn  anthem  ;  the  curtain  rose, 
and  the  play  began. 

The  church  effect  was  a  good  one  and  im- 
pressed the  audience,  a  fact  which  the  per- 
formers were  not  slow  to  realize,  and  feel- 
ing that  their  efforts  were  meeting  with  ap- 
proval, they  entered  into  the  spirit  of  their 
respective  parts  with  renewed  interest.  The 
church  services  end  after  King  Robert's  scorn- 
ful defiance  of  the  heavenly  powers  and  the 
altar-lights  are  quenched.  Gradually  the 
church  becomes  deserted  until  the  king, 
asleep  in  his  chair  of  state,  is  left  alone 
attended  only  by  his  pages.  The  lads  dare 
not  wake  him,  and  at  first  regard  their  posi- 
tion as  great  fun,  laughing,  joking  and 


168  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

singing  among  themselves,  but  night  is 
falling,  the  gloomy  old  cathedral  grows 
dark  and  darker,  until  no  light  is  seen  save 
where  the  faint  rays  of  the  rising  moon 
filter  through  the  stained  glass  windows. 
The  boys  grow  timorous,  still  the  king 
sleeps,  and  his  pages  determine  to  find  a 
light.  They  grope'  about,  starting  away 
now  and  then,  from  dark  corners  where  the 
shadows  seem  to  move,  or  from  the  ghostly 
figure  of  some  marble  saint,  looming  white 
and  threatening  out  of  the  darkness.  One 
lad  bumps  into  another  and  both  cry  out  in 
terror,  frightening  their  comrades  still  more, 
and  an  ominous  thunderclap  in  the  appar- 
ently clear  sky  completes  their  panic.  They 
rush  from  the  place,  closing  the  door,  in 
which  there  is  a  spring-lock,  behind  them, 
and  the  king  is  alone,  locked  in  the  church. 
The  light  streaming  through  the  great 
stained  glass  windows  increases  in  brilliancy 
until  it  seems  that  there  is  nothing  between 


A  MORAL  SLOT.  169 

,it  and  the  beholder.  A  cloud  floats  to  the 
window  and  reclining  upon  it  lies  a 
dimpled  cherub — Ada.  Then  King  Eobert 
wakes  to  find  himself  a  jester.  The  cherub 
tells  him  his  doom  ;  he  laughs,  defies,  and 
finally  growing  enraged,  rushes  up  the  altar 
at  the  cherub,  but  the  visitor  is  gone  and 
blackness  reigns  again.  His  rage  bursts 
forth  anew.  God,  man  or  devil  shall  not 
stop  him,  and  mounting  the  altar,  he  dashes 
a  heavy  candelabrum  through  the  painted  win- 
dow and  climbs  out  into  the  night  while 
thunder  booms  overhead  and  sharp  light- 
ning luridly  illumines  the  scene. 

The  audience  received  this  scene  with  gen- 
erous applause,  and  a  feeling  that  the  play 
was  a  success  began  to  manifest  itself  in  the 
minds  of  those  behind  the  scenes.  In  the 
darkness  following  King  Eobert's  exit  the 
scene  was  rapidly  changed  to  his  palace,  and 
when  the  lights  were  turned  up  the  sudden 
change  from  the  gloomy  church  to  the  brill- 


170  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

iant  palace  drew  forth  another  burst  of  ap- 
plause. King  Eobert  returns  to  find  himself, 
in  truth,  a  jester,  and  another  ruling  in  his 
palace,  and  the  act  ends  with  his  despairing 
realization  of  his  helplessness. 

The  curtain  had  hardly  fallen  before  there 
was  a  general  rush  and  scramble,  apparently 
in  aimless  confusion,  but  in  reality  quite 
methodical.  The  gorgeous  palace  was  dis- 
mantled with  surprising  rapidity  and  a  lovely 
Sicilian  landscape  replaced  it.  Ada,  having 
no  change  of  costume  to  make,  stood  in  the 
wings  with  Leo,  during  the  wait,  chattering, 
merrily. 

The  second  act  shows  the  angel  king's  de- 
parture upon  a  pilgrimage  to  Rome,  and  the 
festivities  attending  it,  and  principally  con- 
sists of  dancing  and  marches.  The  final 
incident  is  the  re-appearance  of  the  cherub 
to  King  Eobert  to  ask,  "Who  art  thou  ?  " 
and  -receive  the  proud  reply,  "  I  am  the 
king  ! "  At  which,  with  a  sorrowful  smile 


A  MOBAL  SLOT.  171 

she  points  to  the  magnificent  galley  in  which 
are  gathered  the  angel  king  and  his  follow- 
ing, and  disappears.  A  crowd  of  jeering 
peasants  seize  upon  King  Robert,  seat  him 
backward  upon  an  ass,  and  drive  him  upon 
the  galley,  which  sails  away  amid  cheers  and 
laughter.  In  the  third  and  last  act  King 
Robert  realizes  the  meaning  of  his  punish- 
ment, and  when  asked  again  by  the  cherub, 
"Who  art  thou?"  replies  humbly,  "Thou 
knowest  best. "  Upon  which  his  rightful  place 
is  restored  to  him,  and  the  play  ends  with  a 
gorgeous  transformation,  showing  the  cherub 
ascending  through  tier  on  tier  of  clouds,  by 
other  cherubs  and  angels  in  picturesque  atti- 
tudes, to  a  golden  gate,  from  which  streams 
a  dazzling  light. 

The  audience  was  demonstrative,  and  there 
was  a  recall  after  each  act.  At  the  end,  in 
answer  to  a  storm  of  applause,  the  curtain 
was  again  raised  and  Tiger  Lily  and  Ada 
stepped  forward  bowing,  for  upon  them  the 


172  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

evening's  chief  success  had  fallen.  Tiger  Lily 
whispered  something  to  Ada,  and  the  child, 
comprehending  instantly,  darted  to  the  wings 
where  Leo  was  standing,  and  seizing  one  of 
his  hands  in  both  of  hers,  pulled  lustily.  So 
unexpected  was  this  action  that,  before  he 
was  quite  aware  of  its  drift,  Leo  was  in  the 
glare  of  the  footlights,  looking  through  the 
tremulous  curtain  of  heat  that  rose  from 
them,  at  the  noisy  multitude  in  front,  and 
bowing  his  thanks.  The  curtain  fell  again 
and  the  stage  hands  began  to  clear  up,  pre- 
paratory to  going  home.  In  a  few  moments 
the  curtain  was  again  raised,  disclosing  the 
deserted  theatre  in  darkness  once  more,  and 
the  company  began  leaving,  one  by  one. 
What  had  a  few  moments  before  been  bril- 
liant with  light  and  beauty  was  now  a  vast 
dark  place,  smelling  of  burned  gas,  the  gloom 
broken  only  here  and  there  by  the  light  of  a 
sickly  wire-covered  gas  jet. 

'Well  it's  a  go,  Leo,  my  boy,"  cried  Dur- 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  173 

rell  as  he  came  upon  the  stage  by  the  little 
private  door,  near  the  gas  table. 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?" 

"  I  know  it ;  look  at  the  reception  it  had." 

"  The  papers  will  tell  to-morrow." 

"  Devil  take  the  papers  !  The  piece  will  go 
no  matter  what  they  say.  I'm  so  satisfied 
of  that,  that  I'm  going  to  book  it  for  the 
whole  of  next  season.  There's  a  barrel  of 
money  in  it." 

"  I  am  thinking  of  the  literary  rank  it 
will  take,"  said  Leo. 

"  That's  all  bosh,  Leo,  don't  bother  your 
head  about  rank.  Look  at  H — t,  he  has  no 
literary  rank,  but  he  makes  money.  Take 
my  advice  and  write  a  few  things  that  will 
make  money  for  your  manager,  and  then  you 
can  get  anything  you  please  staged — other- 
wise no  one  will  bother  with  you.  You've 
got  a  start  now,  make  the  most  of  it." 

"  Thanks  to  you,  old  man,  for  that  start," 
said  Leo  warmly,  grasping  Durrell's  hand 


174  A  MORAL  SLOT. 

"but  you  don't  understand  my  aims,  I 
think." 

''Perhaps  not,"  returned  Durrell  with  a 
shrug,  ' '  you  poets  are  a  queer  lot,  anyhow, 
and  hanged  if  I  believe  you  understand  your- 
selves half  the  time." 

"Are  you  coming  with  us,  Leo?"  asked 
Tiger  Lily,  as  she  emerged  from  the  dressing- 
rooms  with  Ada,  clad  for  the  street. 

Leo  coughed.  "  I  think  I  will,  Larry,"  he 
answered,  "my  cough  is  troublesome  to- 
night and  perhaps  I'd  better  not  hang  around 
with  the  boys  ;  still,  to-night  is —  '  and  he 
hesitated. 

"Go  on,  Leo,"  urged  Durrell,  kindly, 
"  you're  not  fit  to  knock  about  to-night.  Go 
home  and  nurse  yourself,  and  I'll  see  that 
they  all  drink  to  your  success." 

"All  right,  and  say,  Durrell,  invite  them 
to  join  me  to-morrow  night,  after  the  show 
at  Ober's  for  a  little  supper,  will  you  ?  Boys 
and  girls  both." 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  175 

"  I  will." 

"  All  right.     Good-night." 

"Good-night." 

The  next  morning  Less  called  upon  Leo  at 
an  early  hour  to  congratulate  him  upon  the 
successful  production  of  his  play.  He  found 
him  with  the  morning  papers  scattered  all 
about  him.  "Hullo!"  he  cried  cheerily, 
"looking  up  the  criticisms?  How  are 
they?" 

"They  all  commend  the  scenery,  the  acting 
and  the  production  in  general ;  there  is  little 
said  about  the  play, "  was  the  bitter  reply. 

"  Because  it  was  a  success,  I  suppose." 

"  Success  !  Why,  anything  put  on  with 
the  gorgeousness  Durrell  has  mounted  it 
with,  would  succeed,  but  I  had  some  idea 
that  my  work  was  a  little  above  the  ordi- 
nary burlesque.  In  fact,  I  know  it  was, 
before  they  tampered  with  it,  but — well,  my 


176  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

eyes  are  opened  ;  it  is  a  failure  as  far  as  I  am 
concerned." 

"Oh,  bosh!" 

' '  Listen  to  this, "  and  he  read  from  one  of 
the  papers  :— 

"  '  The  play  is  founded  upon  Longfellow's  well- 
known  "  Tale  of  a  Way-side  Inn,"  and  is  a  good 
vehicle  for  the  display  of  the  company's  talents. 
It  is  after  the  style  of  all  burlesques,  perhaps  bet- 
ter written  than  the  average,  with  brilliant  lines 
here  and  there,  but  there  is  nothing  in  it  destined 
to  outlive  the  local  celebrity  it  may  gain.' 

"  Does  that  sound  like  success  ?" 

"My  dear  boy,"  cried  Less,  "  that  is  only 
the  opinion  of  one  young  man." 

"  Here  are  half  a  dozen  more  to  uphold 
his  opinion,"  answered  Leo,  indicating  the 
papers. 

"Wait  and  see  the  crowded  houses  it  will 
draw.  That  is  the  true  test." 

"  The  crowd  is  attracted  by  the  glitter 
and  dancing,  not  by  the  literary  merit  of 


A  MORAL  BLOT  177 

the  play.  Durrell  might  as  well  have  a 
mess  of  'rot'  like  '  Adonis';  it  would  draw 
as  well." 

"  Oh,  pshaw  !  you  are  too  nice  altogether  ; 
they  don't  find  fault  with  your  play,"  cried 
Less. 

"There's  a  difference  between  fault-find- 
ing and  criticism,"  replied  Leo,  "  they  simply 
pass  over  the  play,  as  if  it  were  too  trivial  to 
notice  at  length.  Have  you  seen  the  morn- 
ing A r  ?  " 

"No." 

"Read  it,  there  is  the  opinion  of  a  man 
whose  praise  would,  to  me,  outweigh  the 
censure  of  every  other  critic  in  the  city," 
and  Leo  handed  him  the  paper.  Less  read 
rapidly : — 

"The  announcement  of  a  play,  or  burlesque, 
from  the  pen  of  "  The  Scribe  "  of  Hermes,  drew 
us  to  the  Boston  Theatre  in  the  expectation  of  a 
treat.  We  regret  to  chronicle  our  disappointment. 

The  piece  is  called  *  King   Robert    of   Sicily,' 
12 


178  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

and  follows  closely  the  story  of  Longfellow's 
poem.  Hud  the  writer  omitted  the  burlesque 
features  of  his  work,  it  would  have  been  far  more 
artistic.  As  it  is,  there  are  some  parts  worthy 
of  a  word  of  praise,  notably  the  first  scene,  but 
as  a  whole,  the  action  drags,  being  overburdened 
with  songs,  dances,  marches,  and  the  usual  in- 
cidents of  burlesque.  There  are  many  traces  of 
'cuts'  in  the  dialogue,  but  whether  these  cuts 
are  made  because  of  the  dulness  of  the  text  or 
to  introduce  '  specialties,'  is  hard  to  say.  Al- 
together, the  piece  resembles  what  it  was  in- 
tended to  be  in  about  the  degree  that  a  tack-ham- 
mer resembles  a  battle-axe.  After  he  has  given 
us  so  many  readable  parables  im  Hermes,  'The 
Scribe '  should  hesitate  before  presenting  a  work 
so  far  below  his  proven  ability." 

"That's  too  bad,"  cried  Less,  dropping 
the  paper,  "  it's  unjustly  severe  and  charac- 
teristic of  C—  — 's  criticisms." 

"No,  I  think  not,"  said  Leo.  "When 
Durrell  first  proposed  to  produce  the  play,  I 
objected  to  the  alterations  and  to  making  a 
*  leg  show  '  of  it.  After  my  illness  I  didn't 


A  MORAL  BLCT.  179 

care,  and  let  them  do  as  they  pleased.  The 
alterations  may  have  secured  the  financial 
success  of  the  work,  but  they  denuded  it  of 
all  literary  value.  I  was  conscious  at  first 
that  this  would  be  the  case,  but  in  the  bustle 
of  preparation  I  forgot — and  now— 

"Never  mind,  Leo,"  said  Less,  encourag- 
ingly, ' '  you  can  make  it  up  on  the  new  play. " 

"  'The  Diver/  yes,  it  is  nearly  completed, 
and  I  will  make  it  prove — what  it  will 
prove,"  and  he  laughed. 

"We  shall  all  look  forward  to  it,"  cried 
Less,  cheerfully,  "  and  now  I  must  be  going." 

"You'll  join  us  at  Ober's,  to-night  ?" 

"  Oh,  I'll  be  on  hand,  just  say  supper  and 
I'm  there  ;  but  you  ought  to  swear  off,  old 
man,  until  you  get  rid  of  that  cough." 

' '  I  mean  to.     This  is  to  be  my  last  supper. " 

"Until  you  are  better." 

"Of  course." 

"Well,  once  more,  good-morning." 

"  Good-morning." 


180  A  MOUAL  JJLOT. 


CHAPTER  III. 

TWO  WOMEN. 

"  Who  hath  not  found  himself  surprised  into  revenge  or 
action,  or  passion  for  good  or  evil,  whereof  the  seeds  lay 
within  him,  latent  and  unsuspected,  until  the  occasion 
called  them  forth." 

"  THIS  is  Mr.  Ormsby's  settin'-room, 
Miss,"  said  the  maid  at  Mrs.  West's  as  she 
ushered  a  heavily-veiled  lady,  attired  in 
deep  mourning,  into  Leo's  study,  "he'll  be 
in  soon." 

"Very  well,  I  will  wait,"  replied  the  lady. 

"Shall  I  tell  Miss  Varney  you  are  here?" 

"No! "cried  the  visitor,  turning  fiercely 
upon  the  girl.  "I  wish  to  see  Mr.  Ormsby 
alone,"  she  continued  in  a  gentler  tone, 

upon  a  private  matter." 

"Yes'm,"  said  the  girl,  "j'u  send  him  to 


. . 


A  MORAL  BLO'f. 


you  as  soon  as  he  comes,"  and  she  quietly  left 
the  room. 

The  visitor  looked  curiously  about,  ex- 
amining the  contents  of  the  room  with  much 
interest.  Seating  herself  at  a  large  writing- 
table  she  began  turning  over  the  confused 
heaps  of  manuscript  lying  thereon,  now  and 
then  reading  a  few  lines.  A  heavy  sigh 
escaped  her,  and  she  murmured,  "  Parables 
and  parables.  Poor  Leo,  always  recording 
his  experiences  thus.  It  brings  him  celeb- 
rity ;  the  inestimable  advantage  of  being 
known  to  those  who  do  not  know  us,"  and 
she  smiled  faintly. 

"Are  you  waiting  for  Leo?"  suddenly 
asked  a  childish  voice. 

Rose  started  and  turning,  saw  Ada 
standing  by  her  side.  "  How  you  startled 
me,  child,  "  she  exclaimed  with  a  sigh.  '  '  Are 
you  a  fairy,  that  you  come  so  noiselessly  ?  " 

"No,  but  Leo  sometimes  calls  me  cherub." 

"  Indeed,  and  who  are  you  ?  " 


182  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

"You  mean  really  ?  " 

"Yes." 

' '  I'm  Ada,  I'm  the  cherub  in  ( King  Robert, ' 
you  know." 

' '  Oh,  you  are  the  little  child  they  speak 
of?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Ada  in  a  business-like  tone. 
' '  I  made  a  hit  and  got  a  lot  of  good  notices 
in  the  papers." 

"  Come  here  and  talk  to  me." 

"I  haven't  much  time,"  replied  Ada, 
' '  Tiger  Lily  is  waiting  for  me. " 

"And  who  is  Tiger  Lily  ? " 

' '  Why,  aren't  you  acquainted  with  her  ? 
She's  our  leading  lady.  Leo  calls  her  Larry. " 

"  Oh,  that  woman  !"  exclaimed  Rose  in  a 
tone  of  contempt. 

"Guess  I  can't  stay,  long's  you  speak  of 
Tiger  Lily  like  that,"  said  Ada,  promptly, 
and  she  marched  towards  the  door  with  a 
dignified  air. 

"  Oh,  you  mistake  me,"  cried  Rose  hastily, 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  183 

"I  meant  nothing.  Do  come  and  talk  to 
me." 

Ada  turned  and,  after  a  careful  scrutiny  of 
Rose,  observed  gravely,  "I  haven't  made  up 
my  mind  whether  I  shall  like  you  or  not. 
Why  don't  you  uncover  your  face  ? " 

Rose  smiled  and  raised  her  veil. 

"  A-re  you  a  friend,  of  Leo's  ? "  asked  Ada. 

"  Yes,  we  are  very  old  friends." 

"  What's  your  name  ? " 

"Rose." 

"  I  never  heard  him  speak  about  you." 

Rose  winced.  ' '  We  had  a  misunderstand- 
ing," she  said. 

"  Oh,  I  see  ;  and  you  came  to  make  up." 

Rose  blushed,  "To — to  explain,. perhaps." 

"It's  all  the  same." 

"  Is  my  catechism  over  ?  "  asked  Rose,  with 
a  feeling  of  angry  amusement. 

Ada  ignored  the  question  entirely  ;  she  waS 
still  studying  Leo's  visitor. 

"You're  in  mourning,"  she  observed. 


184  A  MORAL  3LOT. 

"  Yes,  for  my  husband." 

"  Ah,  I  know  now  ?  "  ejaculated  Ada. 

"  What  do  you  know  !  " 

"Say,  was  your  husband  an  old  duffer  ?  " 

Eose  started  and  eyed  Ada  intently,  but 
perceiving  that  her  strange  question  was 
asked  seriously  and  in  perfect  innocence,  and 
being  anxious  to  learn  what  she  could  from 
the  child  she  answered,  "He  was  my  senior. 
Why  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"Then  you're  the  one." 

"What  do  you  mean,  child  !  " 

"  Less  said  a  girl  threw  Leo  over  for  an 
old  duffer,  and  he's  been  a  different  fellow 
since.  Your  husband's  dead,  and  now  you 
want  to  make  up  with  Leo,  that's  it ! "  cried 
Ada,  triumphantly. 

Eose  blushed  hotly.  "Hush,  child,  hush, 
you  should  not  speak  of  things  of  which  you 
know  nothing." 

"But  I  do  know,"  insisted  the  child. 
"You're  so  red  it  shows  I  do.  It's  no  use, 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  185 

though  ;  Less  said  you  wasn't  in  it.  Tiger 
Lily  stands  first  show,  I  heard  him  tell  Dur- 
rell." 

'  You  don't  know  what  you  are  saying, 
child,"  gasped  Kose. 

"  Don't  I,  though  ?  Tiger  Lily  an'  Leo  've 
adopted  me,  and  I  ought  to  know." 

"Are — are  they  married  ?"  queried  Eose 
anxiously. 

"  I  don't  know.  If  I  did,  I  wouldn't  tell. 
I  don't  like  you." 

"Ada,  Ada  ! "  called  a  musical  voice  with- 
out, and  in  a  moment  the  door  opened  and 
Tiger  Lily  entered.  "I  beg  your  pardon," 
she  said  as  she  caught  sight  of  Rose,  "I  did 
not  know  that  Mr.  Ormsby  had  callers. 
Come,  Ada." 

"  She's  waiting  for  Leo,"  said  the  child, 
pointing  to  Rose. 

"  I  am  sorry  Mr.  Ormsby  is  not  in,"  said 
Tiger  Lily,  pleasantly.  "  Can  I  do  anything 
for  you  ? " 


186  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

"  Do  you  manage  his  affairs  ? "  asked  Rose, 
with  a  sneer. 

Tiger  Lily  blushed.  "  I  often  assist  him 
with  his  writing,"  she  answered. 

"  Tiger  Lily,"  whispered  Ada,  audibly, tug- 
ging at  her  dress,  "  do  you  know  her  2 " 

"No,  dear." 

"  I  do.  She's  the  one  who  threw  Leo  over 
for  the  old  duffer.  She  wants  to  make 
up." 

The  actress  started  and  turned  pale.  Rose 
laughed  unpleasantly.  "  My  very  original 
identification  by  that  precocious  child  does 
not  seem  to  please  you,"  she  observed. 

"It  startled  me,"  admitted  Tiger  Lily, 
faintly. 

"  Will  you  permit  me  to  ask  a  delicate 
question  ? " 

"What  is  it?" 

"  Are  you  married  ? " 

"She  asked  me  that,"  cried  Ada,  "  and  I 
wouldn't  tell  her." 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  187 

Tiger  Lily  sank  into  a  chair,  and  every 
vestige  of  color  left  her  face. 

Rose  seemed  to  gloat  over  the  suffering  of 
her  rival  as  she  stood  before  her,  smiling 
mockingly. 

"  Hush,  Ada,"  whispered  Tiger  Lily,  then, 
turning  to  Rose  she  said  huskily,  "lam  not." 

"I  thought  so." 

"  Why  do  you  ask?" 

"Simply  out  of  curiosity.  I  have  heard 
that  about  you  which  makes  me  think  you 
should  be,"  replied  Rose,  insolently. 

"  Let  me  judge  of  that,  if  you  please." 

"Certainly,  Miss — er — Tiger  Lily." 

"Miss  Varney,  if  you  please." 

"Ah,  yes,  Varney.  And  Mr.  Ormsby  has 
been  one  of  your  followers  since  I  saw  him 
last,  I  suppose  ? " 

"  On  the  night  you  told  him  of  your  mar- 
riage, I  found  him  wandering  about  the 
streets,  dazed  by  the  shock  of  suddenly  real- 
izing your  duplicity, "  said  Tiger  Lily  rising 


188  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

from  her  chair  with  dignity  ;  she  spoke  hotly, 
but  realizing  that  she  was  moved,  controlled 
herself.  ' '  I  nursed  him  through  a  terrible 
fever  which  left  him  a  gray-haired  wreck  of 
his  former  self,  and  you,  madam,  are  wholly 
and  entirely  to  blame  for  it.  You  affect  to 
sneer  at  me  because  I  choose  to  live  with  him 
without  our  having  been  wedded,  but  you 
have  no  .moral  right  to  do  so,  for  you  sold 
yourself  in  marriage  to  an  old  man  whom 
you  could  not  love,  while  I  give  myself  to  the 
man  I  love,  asking  nothing  in  return." 

"  At  least,"  sneered  Rose,  "I  am  an  honest 
woman. " 

"Not  at  heart." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ? "  asked  Rose 
wrathfully. 

"Ask  yourself,"  quietly  returned  Tiger 
Lily. 

"  You  are  indulging  this  child  in  a  rare 
treat  by  allowing  her  to  hear  this  edifying 
conversation,"  said  Rose,  shifting  to  another 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  189 

point  of  attack  in  order  to  cover  her  weak- 
ness. "Is  this  your  method  of  educating 
her?" 

"You  began  the  conversation  and  for  what 
she  has  heard  you  are  to  blame,"  retorted  the 
actress,  "Ada,  please  go  up-stairs." 

"All  right,"  said  the  child,  "but  if  you 
want  me,  just  call,"  then,  -as  she  left  the 
room,  she  pointed  to  Rose  and  cried  vehe- 
mently, "I  hate  her." 

"  You  will  try  to  prevent  my  having  an 
interview  with  Leo,  I  suppose  ? "  said  Rose, 
defiantly. 

"  I  shall  do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  was  the 
calmly  spoken  reply. 

"  Do  not  be  too  sure  of  your  power  over 
him." 

"lam  not." 

' '  I  mean  to  try  to  induce  him  to  abandon 
the  life  he  is  leading,"  said  Rose,  trying  to 
rouse  her  rival  again. 

"  I  shall  be  glad  if  you  can  do  so." 


190  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

1 '  Then  you  are  tired  of  him  already  1 " 
cried  Rose  with  a  look  of  disgust. 

"What  a  narrow  mind  you  have!"  ex- 
claimed Tiger  Lily,  contemptuously,  "I  do 
not  believe  you  are  capable  of  feeling  true 
love.  You  look  at  everything  from  a  selfish 
standpoint.  Can  you  not  appreciate  the  fact 
that  I  wish  you  success  because  it  is  for 
his  good  ?" 

"  How  noble  !  "  sneered  Rose.  "Are  there 
many  women  of  your  stamp  who  harbor 
such  sentiments,  or  are  you  merely  reciting 
for  my  benefit  some  of  the  mock  heroics 
of  the  stage  ? " 

"  I  am  learning  to  think  less  of  you  with 
every  word  you  speak,  and  God  knows  my 
opinion  was  poor  enough  from  the  first,"  said 
Tiger  Lily  bitterly. 

"  Your  opinion, "  echoed  Rose  scornfully  ; 
"do  you  think  I  would  turn  my  hand  to 
alter  in  any  way  the  opinion  a  shameless, 
abandoned  woman  might  have  of  me  ?  " 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  191 

"Rose!"  exclaimed  a  familiar  voice, 
sternly,  as  the  door  of  the  room  opened,  and 
Leo  stood  between  the  excited  women. 

"Leo!"  cried  Rose,  taken  aback  by  his 
sudden  appearance,  then,  as  she  looked  well 
at  him,  "  Good  Heavens  !  you  are  ill.  Why 
— why  Leo  !  your  hair " 

"Do  not  trouble  about  my  appearance, 
Mrs.  Choate, "  said  Leo  coldly.  ' '  To  what  do 
I  owe  the  honor  of  this  visit  ? " 

Rose  controlled  the  alarm  caused  by  the 
sudden  and  unexpected  sight  of  his  changed 
appearance,  and  with  a  sinking  at  heart, 
caused  by  his  cold  manner,  replied,  tremu- 
lously, "I  came  to  see  you — to  explain,  and 
this  woman — 

"This  lady  is  my  best  friend.  I  will  not 
hear  one  word  against  her,"  he  interrupted. 
"  As  for  your  explanation,  it  is  unnecessary. 
I  understand  all  the  circumstances,  and  my 
sufferings  are  past,  forgotten,  and  their  cause 
forgiven." 


192  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

Rose  was  taken  aback  ;  this  was  hardly 
the  reception  she  had  looked  for,  and  she  felt 
at  a  loss  for  words  to  express  herself  fitly, 
still  she  blundered  on,  with  a  fierce  determi- 
nation to  follow  things  to  the  end,  but  con- 
scious that  she  was  at  a  disadvantage.  In 
an  agitated  voice  she  cried,  "  You  are  looking 
badly,  Leo  ;  you  are  pale,  ill.  The  life  you  are 
leading  is  killing  you.  I  entreat  you  return 
to  your  old  friends,  your  old  life." 

"  My  present  friends  satisfy  me."  . 

"  And  they  will  kill  you,"  she  cried  vehe- 
mently. 

"My  old  friends  have  nearly  done  that," 
he  retorted  cuttingly. 

"Leo,  that  is  cruel,"  said  Eose,  with  a 
little  sob. 

"  We  can  both  be  cruel,  Rose." 

"  Can  my  words  have  lost  all  weight  with 
you  ? "  she  murmured. 

"All.  You  forfeited  my  esteem  when 
you  married,  Larry  here  has  it  all  now." 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  193 

"And  you  dare  to  say  that  tome?"  she 
cried  angrily.  "  Do  you  know  what  people 
say  of  you." 

"  Disdain  is  the  weapon  with  which  to 
crush  calumny,"  he  answered  calmly. 

"  Calumny  ? "  repeated  Rose,  with  ironical 
wonder. 

' '  All  scandal  is  calumny.  It  hears  but  one 
side. " 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  hear  your  excuses,"  said 
Eose,  contemptuously. 

"I  have  none  to  offer.  I  am  no  hypocrite, 
even  though  hypocrisy  is  a  fashionable  vice, 
and  fashionable  vices  pass  for  virtues." 

"You  are  not  the  Leo  I  once  knew,"  said 
Eose,  with  a  sorrowful  shake  of  her  head. 
"  Had  I  thought  of  you  like  this  I  should  not 
have  come  here.  I  will  go." 

"One  moment,"  said  Leo,  "you  asked  me 
to  return  to  my  old  friends,  thus  signifying 
your  willingness  to  accept  me  as  a  friend 
again.  Do  you  mean  it  ? " 

lo 


194  A  MO  UAL  BLOT. 


"  Indeed  I  do,''  cried  Rose  eagerly. 

"And  will  you  also  accept  Larry  as  a 
friend  ? '' 

"No,  never,"  she  answered  haughtily. 
'  Why  not  ?  " 

"  Can  you  ask  why  I  will  not  accept  an 
abandoned  woman  as  a  friend  ? " 

"  You  will  accept  me  ?" 

"Yes." 

' '  Where  is  the  distinction  ?  I  am  no 
better  than  she  is  ;  I  am  her  partner  in  crime, 
if  there  be  a  crime,  and  you — you  who  look 
down  upon  her,  are  a  woman  whose  beauty 
was  bought  for  so  much  coin  by  a  lecherous 
old  man  who  cloaked  your  sin  and  his  with 
an  impious  marriage- vow. " 

' '  You  insult  me,  sir  ! " 

"I  speak  the  truth." 

"I  came  here,"  said  Eose  tremulously, 
"  actuated  by  the  friendliest  motives,  intend- 
ing, if  I  could,  to  do  you  a  service.  I  am 
received  with  insults  and  confronted  with 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  195 

your  mistress.  After  such  a  scene  it  is  best 
we  should  see  nothing  more  of  each  other,  " 
and  she  moved  towards  the  door. 

Leo  barred  the  way.  "Stop!"  he  cried, 
1 '  You  must  hear  me  before  you  go  ;  you 
have  pointed  out  an  error  which  I  wish  to 
rectify  in  your  presence.  Larry,  dear,"  he 
continued,  turning  to  Tiger  Lily,  "I  have 
neglected  my  duty  too  long  already,  but  it  is 
not  yet  too  late.  Will  you  be  my  wife  ?  " 

"Leo!"  exclaimed  both  women  simulta- 
neously, but  in  very  different  tones. 

"  I  mean  it,  dear,  in  downright  earnest." 

Tiger  Lily  crept  into  Leo's  arms,  while  a 
film  of  tears  dimmed  her  sight,  and  Rose 
abruptly  left  the  room. 

"  No,  Leo,"  she  replied,  after  a  moment's 
pause,  "I  will  not  marry  you." 

"  Why  not  ? "  he  asked  in  surprise. 

"Because — because  I  love  you,"  she  an- 
swered, with  a  sob. 

"  A  strange  reason." 


196  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

"  But  a  good  one,  dear,"  she  said,  drying 
her  eyes.  "  I  am  not  fit  to  be  your  wife.  I 
am  all  she  said  I  was,  and  since  I  cannot 
bring  a  spotless  name  to  link  with  yours,  why 
—we  shall  continue  as  we  are,  and  there's 
an  end.  Now  don't  argue,  for  you  can't 
move  me." 

"But " 

"  Silence,  dear,"  and  she  kissed  his  lips. 

"  You  cannot  silence  me  on  this  point." 

"And  you  cannot  alter  my  firm  determi- 
nation." 

"  Listen  to  reason,  Larry,"  he  cried  petu- 
lantly. 

"Don't  talk  nonsense,  Leo,"  she  retorted 
with  a  smile.  "I  only  read  the  other  day 
that  marriage  is  one  long  quarrel." 

"But  our  marriage  will  not  be  so." 

"No,  because  we  never  will  be  married. 
We  are  happy  now  ;  let  well  enough  alone. 
If  people  talk,  let  them  ;  I  don't  care.  For 
you  I  would  bear  the  taunts  of  all  the  world 


A  MORAL  SLOT.  197 

and  smile,  knowing  you  approved,  and  if  I 
do  not  complain,  why  should  you  ?  It  is 
against  me  their  innuendoes  are  aimed." 

"  I  know  it,  my  girl,"  cried  Leo,  "  and  that 
is  why  I  wish  to  fight  them  down.  I  feel  for 
you  even  as  you  do  for  me,  and  since  it  is  in  my 
power  to  right  you,  why  do  you  oppose  me  ? " 

' '  Because  it  is  not  in  your  power.  If  you 
made  me  your  wife  it  would  only  bind  our 
names  indissolubly  together,  but  it  would  not 
blot  out  my  past ;  that  past  would  besmirch 
your  name  while  now  it  cannot  harm  you. 
Leo  dear,  I  am  right,  I  know  I  am  ;  do  not 
let  us  speak  of  this  again." 

"But  I  am  not  satisfied,  Larry.  If  you 
have  burdens  to  bear  why  can  I  not  share 
them  ? " 

"  Because  your  so  doing  would  not  lighten 
my  load,  and  would  add,  oh,  so  much  !  to 
your  own." 

Leo  sighed  heavily,  and  leaned  his  head 
upon  his  hand.  "  You  are  a  good  woman, 


198  A  MORAL  BLOT. 


Larry,"  lie  said  at  last.     "If  only  Eose  and 
the  rest  of  her  kind  were  like  you,  then— 

'  Never  mind  my  praises,  Leo  dear, "  said 
Tiger  Lily,  smilingly,  "  I  must  go  and  see  if 
Ada  understands  about  that  cut  in  her  lines." 

"She  understands." 

"  If  she  does,  I'll  return  very  soon." 

Left  alone  Leo  drew  a  chair  to  the  table 
and  wrote  rapidly.  After  completing  a  short 
manuscript,  he  began  a  note  to  the  editor  of 
Hermes,  requesting  him  to  publish  the  par- 
able enclosed,  at  once,  putting  aside  all  others 
for  it.  Before  he  had  finished  Tiger  Lily  re- 
turned and,  seeing  him  at  work,  looked  over 
his  shoulder  and  read  the  note. 

"What  parable  is  that,  Leo?"  she  asked. 
"  Something  new  ? " 

Yes,  one  I  have  just  written,  listen," 
and  he  read  aloud,  with  much  vehemence, 
flushing  wrathfully  as  he  emitted  his  words: 

"  And  Dante  led  me  through  those  awful  depths 
that  Virgil  opened  to  his  gaze. 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  199 

"  And  two  there  were  we  came  upon  ;  women, 
who  walked  hand  in  hand ;  the  one  shrinking  from 
her  companion  with  looks  of  loathing  and  disgust, 
which  were  returned  with  a  glance  of  shamed 
appealing. 

" '  "Who  art  thou  ?  '  asked  the  poet. 

" '  I,'  made  answer  the  haughty  one,  '  am  one 
who  lived  purely  and  held  myself  far  above 
those  of  my  sisters  who  had  fallen  victims  to  the 
wiles  of  evil.  '  Yea,  I  closed  my  doors  upon  them, 
shutting  them  out  with  revilings,  as  unclean,  when 
perhaps  a  kindly  word  might  have  turned  them 
back  to  righteousness.  Ah,  woe  is  me,  I  am  a 
sinner ! ' 

"  '  And  thou  ? '  asked  the  poet  of  her  companion. 

" '  I,  alas,'  she  replied,  '  am  one  of  the  fallen, 
despised,  and  cast  forth  by  her,  to  sink  to  the 
lowest.  I  sinned  and  repented,  but  when  she 
drove  me  forth  from  her  door,  I  recked  no  more 
of  right  or  wrong,  but  yielding  to  the  first  tempta- 
tion, sinned  again  ;  so  my  repentance  availed  me 
nothing.  And  she  sinned  as  grievously  as  I,  when 
she  turned  from  my  tears  of  penitence,  but  in  her 
haughtiness  she  knew  not  of  her  sinning,  where- 
fore is  she  even  as  I.  Now  are  we  both  fated  to 
walk  forever,  hand  in  hand,  until  our  sins  be 


A  MORAL  BLOT. 


atoned,  she,  in  her  pride  with  the  courtesan,  she 
would  not  lift  from  shame,  and  I  with  one  who 
holds  herself  above  me  and  looks  down  upon  me 
with  contempt.' 

"And  in  their  misery  they  went  upon  their 
way." 

' '  Oh,  don't  publish  it,  Leo, "  said  Tiger  Lily. 

"  But  I  will,"  he  replied  doggedly,  sealing 
the  note,  "we  shall  see  if  she  is  coming 
here  to  ride  the  high  horse  over  you.  By 
Heavens —  "  a  terribly  severe  fit  of  cough- 
ing interrupted  him  ;  his  face  grew  purple 
and  he  clutched  his  side  painfully.  Tiger 
Lily  was  alarmed  and  hastened  for  a  glass  of 
water.  She  returned  to  find  him  completely 
exhausted,  too  weak  to.  cough  more,  yet 
irritated  by  the  inclination  to  do  so.  Grad- 
ually the  spell  passed  and  with  some  difficulty 
Tiger  Lily  persuaded  him  to  lie  down  for  a 
while,  and  soothed  by  her  gentle  ministra- 
tions, he  fell  asleep. 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  201 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A    MIDNIGHT    SUPPER. 

"  Come  fill  the  cup,  and  in  the  fire  of  Spring, 
Tour  Winter-garment  of  repentance  fling; 
The  Bird  of  Time  has  but  a  little  way 
To  flutter— and  the  Bird  is  on  the  wing." 

RUBAIYAT  OP  OMAR  KHAYYAM. 

AFTER  the  second  performance  of  "  King 
Robert  of  Sicily  "  (on  the  evening  of  the  day 
that  Rose  called  upon  Leo),  a  merry  company 
began  to  assemble,  at  Leo's  invitation,  in  one 
of  the  larger  private  dining-rooms  at  Ober's. 
A  babble  of  voices  filled  the  room,»and,  to  one 
first  entering,  it  seemed  as  if  everybody  was 
talking  and  laughing  at  once.  Leo,  looking 
very  ill  and  feeling  miserable,  although  he 
would  not  admit  it,  greeted  each  comer  with 
a  kindly  word  of  welcome,  laughing  away 


202  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

remarks  about  his  pallor,  and  doing  his  best 
to  play  the  host  when  he  obviously  should 
have  been  at  home  and  under  a  doctor's  care. 
One  by  one  the  guests  arrived,  until  all  but 
Tiger  Lily  and  Ada,  who  were  delayed  at  the 
theatre,  were  present. 

Less  rapped  upon  the  table.  "Ladies  and 
gentlemen,"  he  began. 

"Hear,  hear!"  cried  Durrell,  applauding 
enthusiastically. 

Less  gravely  bowed  and  continued.  "We 
are  assembled  here  this  evening  at  the  invita- 
tion of  our  honored  and  distinguished  friend. 
Mr.  Leo  Ormsby,  to — to — what  for,  Leo  ? " 
he  asked  in  a  very  audible  aside. 

"  To  eat  supper,"  replied  Leo,  gayly,  "fall 
to,  everybody,  while  Less  is  talking,  and  let 
him  amuse  us  while  we  eat." 

"  Not  much,"  cried  Less  ;  "  if  there's  any 
talking  to  be  done  I'm  quite  ready  to  talk, 
but  I  never  talk  and  eat  at  the  same  time, 
it's  bad  manners.  To  quote  the  Bard  of 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  203 

Avon — that  gentleman  who  was  the  primary 
cause  of  so  many  of  our  gifted  fellow  men 
and  women  counting  railroad  ties  for  many, 
many  weary  miles — I  would  say,  '  Not  that 
I  love  talking  less,  but  I  love  eating  more  !  " 

"Where's  your  manners,  Less  ?  "  called  a 
childish  voice  from  the  doorway  as  Tiger 
Lily  and  Ada  entered,  followed  by  a  bedrag- 
gled little  ragamuffin  whose  countenance 
had  almost  lost  human  semblance  beneath 
the  mask  of  dirt  that  covered  it.  "  Why 
don't  you  wait  for  us  ? " 

"Pardon,  0  high  and  mighty  Princess 
Cherub, "  cried  Less,  ' '  Your  slave  was  wrong, 
but  what  imp  of  darkness  hath  followed  in 
your  track  ?  Let  me  call  the  warders  and 
send  him  to  the  realms  below.  What,  Ho  ! " 

"Shut  up,  Less,"  said  Tiger  Lily,  who  had 
removed  her  wraps  and  was  doing  a  like 
service  for  Ada,  "I  found  the  little  urchin 
asleep  in  a  doorway,  and  Ada  insisted  that 
we  must  bring  him  along  to  give  him  a  bite." 


204  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

"Interesting  specimen,"  murmured  Less, 
gazing  admiringly  at  the  urchin.  "What's 
the  species,  Bogtrotter  or  Dirt-Eater  of  the 
Orinoco  ? " 

' '  Conundrum, "  volunteered  Durrell. 

"Just  take  a  cursory  survey  of  it,"  con- 
tinued Less. 

"Damn  it,  yes,"  said  Leo. 

"It's  too  bad  to  receive  my  guest  so," 
laughed  Tiger  Lily,  "  Are  you  hungry,  little 
fellow  ? "  she  asked  kindly. 

"  You  bet  I  am,"  was  the  prompt  answer. 

"  Give  him  something,  Less,  please,"  she 
said. 

Less  filled  a  plate  from  the  table  and 
carried  it  to  a  corner.  The  child  followed 
him  hungrily.  "Now,"  said  Less,  "you 
shall  have  this  plate  if  you'll  tell  me  which 
of  us  will  have  the  most  hair  on  our  heads 
when  we're  a  hundred  years  old." 

"  Let  him  alone,  Less,"  said  Durrell. 

The  little  street-arab  looked  up  at  Less 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  205 

with  an  impudent  wag  of  his  head  and  said, 
' '  Youse'll  have  de  mos'  cheek  :  Ye  lets  de  hair 
grow  on  yer  lip  ter  give  yer  chin  a  chance. " 

Less  gave  him  the  plate  and  retired  igno- 
miniously. 

"  Say,"  said  Ada  to  the  boy,  "haven't  you 
got  a  home  ?  " 

He  nodded  an  affirmative  with  his  mouth 
full. 

"Why  don't  you  go  there,  then  ?" 

"  Like  dis  better." 

"  Strange  child,"  murmured  Less. 

"  Say,  ask  de  boss  kin  I  have  some  more 
grub." 

Ada  saw  that  he  was  provided,  and  con- 
tinued her  questioning. 

"  Have  you  got  a  father  ?" 

"Yep." 

"  Don't  he  feed  you  ?" 

"  Not  much.  He's  doin'  time  down  duck, 
fer  a  drunk." 

"And  your  mother  ? " 


206  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

"  She's  out  now,  but  she's  lay  in  low.  Dey 
tole  her  she's  wanted  agin,  but  I  guess  it's  a 
bluff." 

"  If  you  got  any  money  would  you  give  it 
to  her  ? " 

' '  See  any  green  in  my  eye  ? " 

"  What  would  you  do  with  it  ? " 

"  Dunno.  If  I  had  'bout  forty  cents  I'd 
go  inter  business." 

"  What  business  ?" 

"Papers.  Sell  'em  on  de  street,  an'  if  ye 
git  stuck  strike  de  blokes  dats  comin'  outen 
de  teayter  wid  ladies." 

"A  pity  all  that  business  ability  should  go 
to  waste  for  want  of  a  little  capital,"  ob- 
served Less,  regretfully. 

"  Why  don't  you  go  in  with  him,  as  silent 
partner,  Less  ? "  said  Leo. 

"  Never  thought  of  it.  If  my  money 
wasn't  all  tied  up  in  railroads  now " 

"If  you  had  a  business,"  asked  Ada, 
"would  you  have  to  sleep  in  doorways  ?  " 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  207 

"  No,  siree.  I  cud  go  in  de  newsboys'  lod- 
gin'-house.  Dat's  a  prime  place." 

"  Tiger  Lily,"  said  Ada,  turning  to  her 
friend,  "set  him  up,  please." 

"  Take  a  hat  and  pass  it  round  for  him," 
said  Tiger  Lily.  ' '  Here,  I'll  start  it, "  and  she 
shook  some  loose-change  from  her  pocket- 
book.  Ada  was  not  slow  to  take  the  hint, 
and  a  great  rattling  of  coins  accompanied 
her  tour  of  the  room. 

"Here,  little  boy,"  she  said  patronizingly, 
as  she  poured  her  collection  into  his  grimy 
hands,  "  now  you  can  go  into  business,  but 
you  must  promise  me  one  thing." 

"  I'll  do  it,"  cried  the  little  imp,  his  eyes 
fairly  glowing  with  gratitude.  "See  if  I 
don't.  Wat  yer  want  ? " 

"I  want  you  to  wash  your  face  and 
hands,"  said  Ada  solemnly. 

"But  for  Heaven's  sake,"  added  Less, 
anxiously,  "do  it  gradually.  No  one  can 


208  .-I  xonAL  BLOT. 

tell  what  danger  you  might  run  into  by  a  too 
sudden  exposure  of  the  epidermis." 

"And  now  Ada,"  said  Tiger  Lily,  "let 
the  waiter  show  the  little  fellow  'out  and 
come  here  to  the  table." 

11  Good-night,"  said  Ada  to  the  departing 
urchin. 

"Good-night,"  he  replied,  turning  back 
in  the  doorway.  "Say,  youse  is  a  reg'lar 
gang  o'  bricks,"  and  he  was  gone. 

"Here's  to  Leo,"  said  Less,  raising  a 
brimming  wine-glass,  "  with  the  old  senti- 
ment, '  The  pen  is  mightier  than  the  sword. ' ' 

"And  a  woman's  tongue  than  either," 
added  Durrell. 

"No  toasts,  no  speeches,  no  formality," 
said  Leo,  "suppose  you  tell  us  a  story, 
Less." 

"Waiter,  pass  me  some  sirloin  beans," 
said  Less,  trying  to  dodge  the  issue. 

"But  the  story." 

"I've  got  one,"  said  Durrell. 


A  MOEAL  SLOT.  209 

"Fire  away." 

"  A  good  many  of  you  know  little  Tom 
Peterson,  the  critic  of  the  Star — a  little  bit 
of  a  man " 

' '  I  know, "  interrupted  Less,  "  small  man. 
Say,  Durrell,  did  you  ever  notice  small  men 
are  mean  ? ' 

"Oh,  dry  up.  Peterson  is  a  nice  enough 
little  fellow,  but  he  takes  offence  too  quickly, 
he's  such  a  fiery  tempered  little  chap — 

"Yes,"  interrupted  Less  again,  "most 
even  disposition  possible,  mad  all  the 
time." 

"  Look  here,  Less,"  cried  Durrell,  angrily, 
"  who's  telling  this  story  ? " 

"  We  are,"  was  the  bland  reply. 

"Well,  finish  it." 

"I  call  that  cheek,"  exclaimed  Less,  with 
mock  indignation,  ' '  ask  me  to  finish  it  after 
I've  begun  so  nicely  for  you.  I'll  do  my  share, 
but  it's  too  much  to  ask  me  to  do  all  the 

work." 
14 


210  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

' '  Let  him  alone,  Less, "  cried  Leo.  ' '  Go  on 
Durrell." 

"  Well,  Peterson  often  held  forth  to  the 
boys  upon  the  charms  of  a  young  lady  of  his, 
until  we  were  all  anxious  to  see  her.  Young 
Wardwell  was  our  treasurer  at  the  time, 
'  Handsome  Will '  we  called  him,  and  he  was 
a  perfect  Adonis ;  the  girls  all  raved  about 
him,  and  we  wanted  to  pit  him  against  Peter- 
son with  the  lady  in  question,  just  to  have 
a  lark  with  the  little  chap,  who,  by  the  way, 
had  never  met  Will.  One  day  Peterson 
asked  me  for  seats,  '  I'm  going  to  bring  the 
young  lady  to  see  your  show  to-night "  he 
told  me,  and  I  wrote  out  a  pass  for  him. 
This  was  just  the  chance  we  had  been  look- 
ing for,  and  Wardwell  was  posted  up  accord- 
ingly, and  I  fixed  it  so  that  he  sat  just  near 
enough  to  the  couple.  The  girl  was  pretty 
and  brimful  of  fun,  and  she  soon  noticed 
that  Will  was  regarding  her  steadily.  She 
pretended  not  to  see  him  at  first,  but  every 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  211 

now  and  then  stole  a  glance  in  his  direction 
until  a  little  flirtation  was  commenced. 
Peterson  took  it  all  in,  and  was  as  mad  as  a 
March  hare.  Between  the  acts  Wardwell 
came  out  and  reported  progress.  Little  Pete 
had  no  idea  we  were  putting  up  a  job  on  him 
and  my,  wasn't  he  savage!  But  the  girl 
rather  enjoyed  the  fun.  During  the  last  act 
he  called  an  usher  and  whispered,  '  Tell  that 
gentleman  in  the  third  row,  second  seat, 
that  Mr.  Peterson  of  the  Star  sends  his 
compliments  and  begs  to  be  favored  with  his 
name.'  '  That's  Mr.  Wardwell,  Handsome 
Will,  sir'  says  the  usher.  'Damn  Hand- 
some Will,'  growls  Pete,  'thank  you,  all 
the  same.'  When  the  usher  came  out  and 
told  his  story  we  stood  ready  to  prevent  a 
disturbance,  but  the  boys  wanted  to  see  the 
end  of  the  fun,  so  when  the  show  ended  Will 
was  posted  conspicuously  in  the  lobby  and 
we  stood  about  near  him.  Pretty  soon  Peter- 
son comes  along  with  his  girl  and  sees  Ward- 


212  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

well.  He  inarches  right  up  to  him,  and,  tip- 
ping his  hat  politely,  says,  '  Mr.  Wardwell, 
I  believe  ? '  '  That  is  my  name,  sir. '  '  Mr. 
Wardwell,  allow  me  to  introduce  you  to  Miss 
Nelly  Kendrick,  Miss  Kendrick  this  is  Mr. 
Wardwell.  I  bid  you  both  a  very  good  even- 
ing,' and  with  another  tip  of  his  hat  he 
marched  away,  leaving  the  girl  behind.  Will 
had  to  see  her  home,  of  course.  We  were  play- 
ing in  New  York  at  one  of  the  houses  near 
Fourteenth  Street  and  she  lived  way  out  in 
Harlem  somewhere.  The  next  day  Will  and 
Pete  had  it  hot  and  heavy,  and  Will  swore 
vengeance.  When  Peterson  found  out  it  was 
a  put-up  job  he  tried  to  make  up  with  the 
girl,  but  Will  wouldn't  let  him  and,  just  to 
spite  Pete,  married  her  himself  ;  but  the  little 
fellow  got  the  best  of  him  that  time,  too,  for 
she  proved  to  have  a  devil  of  a  temper  and 
they  fight  like  cat  and  dog." 

"Is  that  the  end  ?"  asked  Less,  soberly. 

"Yes,"  snapped  Durrell. 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  213 

"  Ah,  indeed  ?  Good  finish,  excellent 
finish,"  said  Less,  applauding  faintly.  "Tell 
that  last  part  again,  will  you  Durrell,  I 
didn't  quite  catch  the  point." 

"  I  can't  provide  you  with  brains, "  growled 
Durrell,  who  did  not  relish  Less's  banter. 

"No?  why  not?  Has  your  supply  given 
out  ?  " 

"  I'll  engage  you  as  a  clown  if  you  display 
so  much  talent  for  it,"  said  Durrell. 

"Why  didn't  you  speak  sooner?  I've 
about  decided  to  take  an  interest  in  the 
paper  business  with  Ada's  friend." 

"  What  makes  you  so  quiet,  Leo  ?"  asked 
Ada.  "You're  letting  Less  do  all  the  talk- 
ing." 

"He's  qualified  to,  Cherub,  isn't  he  ?" 

"  I  s'pose  so,  but  I  don't  like  to  see  you  so 
quiet." 

"  Come,  sit  beside  me  then,  little  one,  and 
see  if  you  can  'liven  me  up  to  talking  point." 
A  heavy  cough  ended  his  speech .  Ada  moved 


214  A  MOEAL  BLOT. 

to  his  side,  chattering  gayly,  while  he  listened 
absently,  stroking  the  child's  curls. 

' '  I  don't  knoAV  what  to  do  for  Leo,  Less, " 
whispered  Tiger  Lily,  '*  that  dreadful  cough 
hangs  on  to  him  so,  and  he  positively  refuses 
to  see  a  doctor  or  take  care  of  himself  at  all. 
He  had  a  terrible  spell  this  afternoon,  and  I 
tried  to  keep  him  home  to-night,  but  you 
.know  I  can  do  nothing  with  him.  Don't 
you  think  he  is  looking  badly  ? " 

' '  He  told  me  to-day  that  he  was  going  to 
take  a  good  long  rest  as  soon  as  you  and  Ada 
could  get  away." 

"  That  will  be  soon.  '  King  Eobert '  is 
to  be  withdrawn  in  order  to  make  some 
further  alterations,  and  Durrell  can  do  with- 
out me  for  the  rest  of  the  season." 

"Come,  Less,"  cried  Leo,  "give  us  that 
story." 

"  Don't  know  one,"  was  the  prompt  reply," 
"but  talk  about  larks,  you  ought  to  have 
been  with  me  this  afternoon.  You  know  that 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  215 

more  people  pass  the  corner  of  Winter 
and  Washington  Streets  than  any  other 
spot  in  the  city.  Well,  having  nothing 
to  do,  I  thought  I  would  make  the  passers 
amuse  me,  so  I  bought  a  ball  of  stout  twine 
and  tied  an  end  of  it  to  a  sign  on  the  corner, 
about  three  feet  above  the  ground,  and  then, 
let  the  ball  roll  gently  across  the  sidewalk. 
A  gentleman  walking  up  Washington  Street 
caught  it  on  his  foot  and  carried  it  up  as 
far  as  Ditson's.  He  untangled  himself  easily, 
but  meanwhile  several  other  people  were 
snared,  and  the  ball  was  unrolling  itself 
further  all  the  time.  A  man  was  caught 
about  the  waist,  he  lifted  the  string  over  his 
head  and  caught  a  lady's  bonnet.  He  apol- 
ogized and  tried  to  extricate  her  ;  when  he 
succeeded  he  was  hopelessly  entangled  again 
himself  with  a  knot  of  other  people.  The 
more  they  struggled  to  free  themselves  the 
worse  the  snarl  grew,  and  every  moment 
some  one  else  was  caught.  An  important 


216  A  MOttAL  BLOT. 

policeman  came  along  and  undertook  to  set 
matters  straight,  but  only  succeeded  in 
adding  himself  to  my  batch  of  victims.  I 
thought  I  had  seen  almost  enough  of  the 
fun,  which  promised  to  last  for  some  time, 
and  started  up  Winter  Street ;  but  I  had 
taken  only  a  few  steps  when  a  tug  at  my 
ankle  told  me  I  too,  was  enmeshed.  I  stooped 
to  free  my  foot,  and  the  passers  walked  the 
string  over  me  in  half  a  dozen  loops,  and  if  I 
had  not  promptly  whipped  out  my  penknife 
and  cut  the  string,  I  might  have  been  strug- 
gling there  yet. " 

"  Ah  !  "  exclaimed  Durrell  blandly,  in  im- 
itation of  Less's  patronizing  manner  of  a 
few  moments  before  "good  finish,  excellent 
finish,  excellent  finish,  mj'-boy." 

"There  now,"  exclaimed  Less,  appealing 
to  the  company,  "Durrell  indorses  my  story- 
telling but  he  won't  indorse  my  notes. 
Funny  fellow,  Durrell.  By  the  way,  Leo, 
talking  of  notes,  I  received  one  to-night,  re- 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  217 

lating  to  you.  I  can't  make  anything  out  of 
it,  perhaps  you  may  be  able  to,  here  it  is," 
and  he  handed  the  epistle  to  Leo. 

"From  a  lady,  I'll  wager,"  cried  Dur- 
rell. 

Leo  smiled  and  unfolded  the  paper.  As 
he  glanced  at  it  he  grew  red  and  then  pale, 
frowning,  as  if  displeased.  The  note  read: — 

"  MB.  INGRAHAM, 

"  Dear  Sir  :— 

"  Will  you  pardon  my  addressing 

you  and  permit  me  to  beg  a  great  favor.  I  shall  feel  deeply 
grateful  if  you  will  inform  your  friend,  Mr.  Leo  Ormsby, 
from  me,  that  I  beg  of  him  to  grant  me  an  interview,  if  only 
for  a  moment,  before  he  is  married.  Please,  please  do  not 
fail  to  give  him  the  message,  and  I  will  remain 
Ever  your  debtor, 

"  ROSE  CHOATE." 

Leo  refolded  the  note  and  returned  it  to 
Less.  "  Bah  ! "  he  said  with  a  look  of  annoy- 
ance, "I  shall  not  notice  it."  He  raised  his 
glass  to  his  lips,  but  hardly  tasted  the  wine. 
As  he  replaced  the  glass  upon  the  table  he 
began  coughing  violently.  Controlling  him- 


218  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

self  with  an  effort  lie  rose,  saying,  "  Excuse 
me  for  a  moment,  please,  the  room  is  so  op- 
pressively warm  that  it  irritates  my  cough, 
I  must  have  a  little  fresh  air." 

"Shall  I  go  with  you,  old  man?"  asked 
Less,  rising. 

Leo  made  an  emphatic  negative  gesture 
and  left  the  room.  They  could  hear  him 
coughing  as  he  passed  along  the  corridor 
without,  and  the  sound  dampened  their  hilar- 
ity for  the  moment,  but  Less  would  not  let  the 
gayety  flag.  He  was  as  concerned  as  any  for 
his  friend,  but  he  knew  Leo  had  invited  the 
company  with  the  intention  of  giving  them  a 
pleasant  party,  and  that  he  could  best  please 
him  by  pleasing  his  guests.  Tiger  Lily  anx- 
iously watched  the  door  for  Leo's  return,  and 
Ada,  reading  the  concern  in  her  face,  crept 
to  her  side  and  watched  with  her.  The  host's 
absence  was  becoming  noticeably  protracted, 
and  Tiger  Lily  was  growing  really  alarmed, 
when  Less  saw  through  the  door,  which  stood 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  219 

slightly  ajar,  a  waiter,  who  beckoned  him. 
Fearful  that  something  was  wrong  with  his 
friend,  but  anxious  not  to  disturb  the  com- 
pany, he  rose  with  a  forced  laugh,  saying  : 

"I'm  going  to  fetch  our  truant  back  if  I 
am  excused." 

"Go  on,  Less,"  said  Tiger  Lily,  "it's  time 
he  returned." 

He  left  the  room,  to  remdin  away  an  un- 
reasonably long  time.  Without  him  the  con- 
versation flagged,  a  dull  silence,  broken  now 
and  then  by  a  monosyllabic  remark  or  a 
whisper,  hung  over  the  party.  The  minutes 
dragged  interminably,  until  Tiger  Lily  rose, 
saying,  "  I  can't  stand  this,  I  fear  something 
is  wrong,  and  I'm  going  to  see.  Will  you 
come  with  me,  Durrell  ? " 

"Yes," -replied  he,  rising  promptly,  but 
looking  up  he  saw  Less  standing  in  the 
doorway  with  a  very  serious  look  upon  his 
usually  merry  face. 

"Well?  "he  said. 


ii20  A  MORAL  SLOT. 

' '  Leo  was  taken  sick,  and  we  have  sent  him 
home.  He  begs  you  will  not  disturb  your- 
selves, but  continue  as  if  he  were  here." 

"  Waiter,"  called  Tiger  Lily  sharply,  "  call 
a  carriage,  please."  Then  to  the  company, 
"  I'm  going  home  to  him.  Come,  Ada. 
What  was  it,  Less  ? " 

"  His  old  trouble,  the  cough,"  answered 
Less,  evasively. 

"Good-night,"  said  Tiger  Lily,  abruptly, 
as  she  hurried  out  with  Ada. 

"Good-night." 

"Anything  serious,  Less  ? "  whispered  Dur- 
rell  anxiously. 

"Yes.  A  terrible  hemorrhage.  Two 
doctors  have  gone  home  with  him,  and — it 
looks  bad."  .  v 

"Not— not " 

"  I  don't  know.  I'm  going  to  him  as  soon 
as  I  can,  but  he  wished  me  to  do  the  honors 
here.  I  couldn't  say  no,  and — here  I  am 
when  I  ought  to  be  with  him." 


A  MOEAL  BLOT.  221 

"  What  can  you  do  for  him  ? " 
"  Mighty  little,  mighty  little  ;  but  I'd  like 
to  be  there  to  do  that.     Durrell,  he — he's  my 
best,  my  dearest  friend." 

"Go  then,  Less,  I'll  take  charge  here." 

"  Thanks,  old  man,  that's  kind  and " 

Less  turned  a  pair  of  eyes  in  which  there 
were  traces  of  a  threatened  overflow  upon 
his  friend,  and  wrung  his  hand  vigorously, 
then  muttering  a  "  good-night "  that  sounded 
like  a  sob,  he  hurriedly  left  the  room. 


222  A  MORAL  BLOT. 


CHAPTER  V. 

EXIT. 

"  The  moving  Finger  writes  ;  and  having  writ, 
Moves  on  ;  nor  all  your  Piety  nor  Wit 
Shall  lure  it  back  to  cancel  half  a  Line, 
Nor  all  your  Tears  wash  out  a  Word  of  it." 

RUBAYAT  OF   OMAR   KHAYYAM. 

AT  about  noon  011  the  following  day,  Dur- 
rell  rang  the  bell  at  Mrs.  West's. 

As  the  servant  opened  the  door  he  caught 
sight  of  Less,  still  in  evening-dress,  from  the 
night  before,  and  called  to  him. 

"  You  have  not  slept ! "  exclaimed  Durrell, 
noticing  his  friend's  pallor  and  disordered 
dress,  at  a  glance. 

"None  of  us  have,"  wearily  replied  Less. 

"Well,  what  news  ;  how  is  he  ?" 

"  Beyond  all  pain." 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  223 

"Good  God,  not  dead?" 

Less  nodded  an  affirmative.  He  was  too 
much  affected  to  command  his  voice  for  the 
moment. 

"  Is  it  possible  ? "  exclaimed  Durrell,  aghast. 
For  a  moment  the  two  men  stood  silent,  as  if 
stunned  by  the  sudden  blow.  Durrell  broke 
the  silence,  saying  in  a  subdued  tone  :  "Tell 
me  about  it." 

"Sit  down,"  replied  Less  sadly,  "and  I 
will.  The  doctors  worked  over  him  when  he 
reached  home  and  seemed  to  ease  him.  He 
was  terribly  weak,  though,  and  after  a  while 
fell  asleep.  I  sat  there  with  one  of  the  phy- 
sicians, watching  ;  watching  and  thinking. 
I  could  not  read,  the  lights  were  too  dim  ;  we 
could  not  talk,  it  might  waken  Leo  ;  and  I 
dared  not  sleep  for  fear  he  might  want  me. 
For  hours  we  sat  there  in  silence,  the  doctor 
and  I,  with  nothing  to  occupy  our  minds. 
I  counted  the  ticks  of  the  clock  for  a  while  ; 
but  gave  that  up  as  a  bad  job.  I  tried  not 


224  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

to  think  of  poor  Leo,  but  the  thought  -would 
come.  The  doctors  gave  us  very  little  hope, 
and  the  fear  that  he  was  already  dying  con- 
stantly haunted  me.  I  would  have  given 
everything  to  be  able  to  act,  but  against  the 
awful  uncertainty  of  death  what  was  I  to  do  ? 
You  know  my  religious  views — that  is,  you 
know  I  have  none,  and  yet  I  prayed  then ; 
prayed  fervently,  honestly,  for  Leo's  life. 
There  are  limits  beyond  which  we  stumble 
against  the  dark  barrier  of  the  unknown  and 
unknowable.  Oh,  what  a  comfort  it  would 
be,  did  we  but  know  that  sundered  ones 
would  be  reunited  at ( that  bourn  from  which 
no  traveller  returns, '  but,  alas  !  no  one  can  say 
truly  that  he  knows.  Many,  like  me,  scoff 
at  religion,  but  the  visit  of  death  to  a  dear 
one  brings  us  to  our  knees.  Death  is  re- 
ligion's strongest  ally."  Less  sighed  heavily 
and  paused  a  moment.  "  Well,"  he  resumed, 
"finally  Leo  woke,  and  the  doctor  gave  him 
some  medicine.  He  seemed  remarkably 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  225 

bright,  and  I  was  surprised  and  delighted  to 
note  his  improvement.  He  asked  me  to 
bring  the  manuscript  of  his  new  play,  *  The 
Diver,'  and  read  him  the  last  lines  he  had 
written,  and  I  obeyed.  'Now  write,'  he 
said,  and  I  took  up  the  pen — the  doctor 
approached  the  bedside — '  Exit,'  and  as  I 
wrote  the  word  I  heard  the  doctor  exclaim, 
and,  looking  up,  saw  at  a  glance  that  the 
end  had  come.  That  was  the  last  word  poor 
Leo  ever  spoke.  In  half  an  hour  he  was 
gone. " 

"  Exit,"  murmured  Durrell  sadly. 

"He  died  peacefully,"  said  Less,  making 
no  effort  to  conceal  the  evidences  of  his 
grief,  "  just  fell  asleep.  He  looks  as  if  he 
were  sleeping  ;  would  you  like  to  see  him  ? " 

"Yes." 

"  Come,"  and  he  rose  to  show  the  way. 

"But " 

"Well,  what  is  it?" 

"Perhaps  Tiger  Lily " 


2-26  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

"No,  poor  girl,  I  think  she  has  gone  to  her 
room." 

"Come  then." 

In  a  small  anteroom,  through  which  the 
two  men  passed  to  reach  the  room  where 
the  body  lay,  they  saw  Tiger  Lily  sitting  at 
a  table,  her  head  buried  in  her  folded  arms, 
sobbing  wildly,  in  a  perfect  abandonment  of 
grief.  They  tip-toed  by  her,  almost  un- 
noticed, and  entered  the  chamber  of  death. 

Tiger  Lily  was  roused  by  the  voice  of  one 
of  the  servants  raised  in  loud  expostulation. 
She  lifted  her  dishevelled  head  and  gazed 
about,  with  eyes  red  and  bloodshot  from 
weeping,  seeking  the  cause  of  the  disturb- 
ance. 

"You  mustn't  go  in  there,  Miss,"  the 
maid  was  saying  ;  "indeed  you  can't." 

"I  must  and  shall.     Stand  aside  !  " 

"Who  is  there?"  called  Tiger  Lily, 
wearily.  The  door  opened  and  Rose  Choate 
entered.  Tiger  Lily  rose  to  her  feet  with 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  227 

the  look  of  a  fury,  and  the  servant  made  off 
after  one  frightened  look  at  her. 

"You?" 

"Oh,  is  he  really  dead?"  There  were 
tears  in  her  voice  and  eyes  as  she  spoke. 

"Dead!  yes,  and  you  killed  him!"  cried 
Tiger  Lily  vehemently  ;  "You,  who  might 
have  had  his  love  even  to  this  day,  if  you 
chose  ;  might  have  had  him  by  your  side 
now,  full  of  life,  of  love,  of  happiness  !  But 
you  sent  him  from  you,  out  into  the  storm, 
and  now  he  is  there,  cold,  gray,  dead,  dead, 
and  you  killed  him.  Oh,  Leo,  Leo  ! "  A 
passionate  burst  of  sobs  choked  her  utter- 
ance. 

"I  killed  him  !"  cried  Rose  in  tearful  in- 
dignation. "Did  I  lead  him  into  the  fast 
company  he  has  been  keeping  of  late  ?  Did 
I  take  him  with  me  to  late  suppers,  teach 
him  to  use  wine  as  water,  make  him  lead  a 
life  of  which  each  moment  must  bring  some 
new  excitement,  and  which  treacherously  and 


228  A  MORAL  SLOT. 

surely  undermined  his  health  ?  That  is 
what  killed  him,  and  you,  not  I,  are  the 
cause." 

Tiger  Lily  shook  her  head  sadly,  "  I  loved 
him,"  she  said  simply,  "  I  love  him  now  and 
always. " 

"And  I  loved  him,"  wailed  Rose,  "I 
never  ceased  to  love  him.  I  came  here 
yesterday,  prepared  to  humble  myself,  to 
win  him  back  ;  I  came  to-day  determined  to 
do  so.  Every  fibre  of  my  heart  has  yearned 
for  him  since  we  parted,  and  now — now  he 
is  dead !  Oh,  why  did  you  ever  come 
between  us  ?  You  are  my  evil  genius." 

"And  you  were  his." 

"You  did  not  care  for  him  as  I  do," 
sobbed  Rose.  "In  a  short  while  you  will 
forget  him  for  some  new  lover,  but  I " 

"Oh,  you —  "began  Tiger  Lily  fiercely, 
and  then  feebly  finished  by  covering  her  face 
with  her  hands. 

The  door  was  heard  to  close,  and  Less 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  229 

stood  between  them.  He  caught  Tiger  Lily's 
words,  and  saw  at  a  glance  how  matters 
stood. 

"Ladies,"  he  said  gently,  "is  this  a  time 
or  placa  to  quarrel  ?  Let  the  dead  rest  in 
peace,  he  was  a  friend  to  both  of  you,  can 
you  not  remember  this,  and— 

"Don't,  Less,"  said  Tiger  Lily,  tearfully, 
"  I  ought  not  to  have  allowed  her  to  so 
aggravate  me. " 

"Mrs.  Choate,"  he  said,  turning  to  Eose, 
"  do  you  think  it  right  to  intrude  here  ? " 

"I  came  to  see  Leo,  I  find  him  dead,"  she 
wailed. 

"Alas  !  and  finding  him  so  ? " 

"I  shall  remain,"  was  the  dogged  re 
sponse. 

"For  what?" 

"  I  do  not  know,"  she  sobbed,  "  to  be  near 
him." 

"  Think  of  the  talk  your  action  will  cause 
among  your  friends." 


230  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

"  I  do  not  care,"  she  returned,  in  the  same 
dogged  way. 

' '  You  must  care.  We  are  '  Bohemians  ' 
here,  and  do  as  we  please.  In  '  Bohemia  ' 
they  do  not  delight  in  destroying  reputa- 
tions ;  but  you  come  from  a  different  sphere, 
where  you  must  beware  of  your  '  friends. ' 
You  look  down  upon  poor  Tiger  Lily,  and 
speak  slightingly,  scornfully,  of  her.  If  you 
remain,  even  as  you  do  to  her,  so  will  your 
friends  do  to  you." 

"What  shall  I  live  for  now?"  moaned 
Rose. 

"  That  will  appear  later.  We  all  feel  his 
loss  as  keenly  as  you  do,  but  we  must  think 
of  the  living.  Your  duty  is  to  yourself  now, 
and  it  bids  you  go." 

"  I  cannot,  oh,  I  cannot,"  cried  Eose  de- 
spairingly, ' '  oh,  you  can't  know  how  bitter 
has  been  my  self-reproach,  how  I  loved  him, 
how  I  lived  only  in  the  hope  of  a  reconciliation 
when  the  time  should  come.  I  knew  I  must 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  231 

wait  and  I  did  wait,  so  patiently,  and  all  the 
time  my  love  grew  stronger,  deeper,  until 
at  last  it  filled  my  whole  being.  Then  I 
found  myself  free,  and  I  came  to  him,  only 
to  learn  that  she  had  risen  up  between  us,  and 
now — now —  "  she  covered  her  face  with 
her  hands,  weeping  bitterly. 

"Tiger  Lily  loved  Leo,  too,"  said  Less 
gently,  "even  as  you  loved  him,  and  the 
same  sorrow  that  has  fallen  upon  you 
weighs  her  down  ;  your  sufferings  are  hers. 
If  you  two  could  only  share  your  sorrow  and 
sympathize  with  each  other,  how  much 
better  it  would  be  than  exchanging  bitter 
taunts  and  reproaches  as  you  have  been 
doing.  The  cause  of  your  enmity  is  gone 
with  Leo's  life.  The  cause  of  your  sorrow 
remains,  lying  in  there,  a  poor  morsel  of 
clay.  Will  you  quarrel  over  all  that  is  left 
us  of  our  friend,  or  will  you  rather  mingle 
your  tears  in  peace,  perhaps  friendship  ?  " 

Tiger   Lily  dried  her  eyes  and  answered  : 


232  A  MORAL  BLOT. 

"  Friends  we  cannot  be,  there  is  much  to 
prevent,  even  if  we  were  both  willing.  She 
holds  aloof  from  me,  and  she  does  right;  my 
friendship  would  degrade  her  in  the  circle 
she  moves  in,  no  matter  how  disinterested 
it  might  be,  but  we  need  not  be  enemies. 
Sorrow  has  come  to  us,  we  can  bear  it 
together,  and  when — when  all  is  over,  she 
will  go  her  way,  I  will  go  mine,  and  we 
shall  meet  no  more. 

''You  are  very  good,"  said  Rose  tremu- 
lously, turning  to  Tiger  Lily,  "  but  I — I  may 
as  well  die  now,"  she  added  hysterically. 

"  Once  he  said  something  like  that  to  me," 
said  Tiger  Lily  softly,  "and  then  he  added, 
'I  did  more  than  die,  I  lived,'  and  his  words 
have  always  remained  fixed  in  my  memory. 
I  feel  as  you  do,  but  I  shall  do  as  he  did. 
He  loved  little  Ada,  and  the  child's  future 
shall  be  my  care.  I  know  the  perils  of  an 
actress's  life,  and  I  will  shield  her  until  she 
is  a  noble,  pure  woman,  and  I  can  say  : 


A  MORAL  BLOT.  233 

'This  is  what  he  would  have  wished  for 
her.'" 

"Let  me  aid  you,"  cried  Rose,  eagerly. 

"  We  shall  see  later,"  she  replied.  "  I  am 
glad,"  she  thought,  with  a  compassionate 
look  at  Eose,  "that  I  have  that  last  parable 
of  Leo's,  and  can  suppress  it,  for  her  sake, 
poor  thing."  She  held  forth  her  hand,  and 
Eose  took  it  in  both  of  hers,  sobbing. 

"Come,"  said  Tiger  Lily,  "let  us  go  to 
him. "  And  with  great  calmness  she  led  Eose 
to  the  door  of  Leo's  chamber. 

Less  was  there  before  them,  and  as  he  held 
the  door  open,  he  beckoned  Durrell  to  leave 
the  two  women  alone  with  the  dead. 

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